


Enyo's Daughter

by Butterfly



Series: Lessons of Icarus [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Background Jane Foster/Thor, Background Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Background Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, F/M, Infidelity, Minor Darcy Lewis/Clint Barton, Minor Tony Stark/OFC, Minor Tony Stark/OMC, Natasha Romanov & Darcy Lewis Friendship, POV: Natasha Romanov, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:26:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfly/pseuds/Butterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha's always fallen in love with weapons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to scrollgirl and chosenfire28 (both on livejournal) for their words of support and encouragement. Additional thanks to scrollgirl for helping me out when I got stuck.

Natasha used to screw a guy who liked to name his guns. She doesn't bother to remember the man's name, but she's never forgotten the guns. Alice had been the pathetic handgun he'd given Nicki—Nicki was who Natasha had been for him, innocent little Nicki with pigtails and wide eyes—to 'protect' herself with; Kyle was the big bruiser of a shotgun he kept up above his fireplace; and the gorgeous number he'd kept in his nightstand next to the bed was named Tony.

Tony had been the gun she'd shot him with and she'd liked that at the time, the idea of shooting a man with his own gun, in his own bed, while he lay face-down and fucked-out on silk sheets—actual silk, like the indulgent child he'd been—watching and waiting until the dark stain finally stopped spreading across the pale cream of the fabric.

She thinks of that gun sometimes, when she sees Tony Stark. He wouldn't approve of it—not high-tech enough for him—but it was like him in a lot of ways. Compact. Sleek but still showy.

Effective.

The first time she'd seen Stark in person—about three months before he'd first seen her—she'd felt the urge to run her hand over the lines of his body, see if she could make him purr. The desire had died down by the time Ms. Potts had officially taken Natasha to see him, which she'd counted as a blessing. Feelings like that hadn't been part of the job.

Besides, he'd been setting up something with Potts at the time, which Fury had thought was a good idea. That it might give Stark enough stability to handle being part of a superhero team.

Natasha tucked her feet up under herself and watched as Stark paced around her room, and she wondered how this latest development would affect the team. It would, of course, because Stark couldn't breathe without forcing the whole world to take note of it. It was part of his irritating charm.

"If you weren't ready to marry her, why did you propose?" she asked. Stark froze, hands twitching slightly, fingers shifting. She liked to think that if she could see his brain waves, they would match up exactly to the movements of his hands.

"I _was_ ready," Stark said. "I was—you know, I realized after she said yes—I still can't believe she said yes—that if we get married, she actually _will_ be in charge of my life."

"I don't think that's in the vows," Natasha said. "Not anymore and not really ever for men."

Stark laughed, in an odd humorless way. "I don't deal well with—ah, with authority."

"I think Ms. Potts is smart enough to realize that," Natasha said carefully. She liked Potts—the woman was bright, effective, and not too nice to do her job well. "I don't think she's agreeing to marry you because she thinks it'll give her more control over you."

"Shouldn't it?" Stark looked over at Natasha. He seemed thoughtful, which she figured for a good enough warning sign that he was about to do something dangerous. "If I'd kissed you that night, would you have kissed me back?"

She didn't need to ask what night he was talking about; after months of knowing him, there was still only one possibility.

She thought carefully about her hands on Stark's face, covering up his bruises, and about the way he'd asked her what she'd do if she knew she were dying. She briefly wondered if the question was a test and, if so, which answer it was Stark wanted to hear.

In the end, Natasha shrugged. It hadn't been part of the job and Fury never would have asked it of her, but she could keep an eye on a man from his bed as easily as from his office and intimate situations revealed a great deal about someone's character. "Natalie would have, if you'd made the first move."

"Screw Natalie," Tony said, with a quick, dismissive hand gesture. " _You_ , Agent Romanoff. Would _you_ have kissed me back?"

"If I had, you'd never have forgiven me for it," she said. He took a moment to think about that—just a moment—his face shifting with more emotions than she could trace.

"Yeah," he said finally, his expression settling. "You're probably right."

He leaned against the wall, his fingers temporarily still and his mouth quiet. He studied her for what felt like a long moment, then his attention shifted to the walls. They'd been bare two months ago when Stark had first given her the suite and he'd made a crack about not decorating because he couldn't know what the _real_ her would like; she had to wonder, as he examined the photographs that she'd put up, if they gave him any insight into her.

"She's heading back west," Stark said. "She's on a plane right now. Business meeting in the morning. Everyone there will see the rock; they'll know." He reached out and straightened a photograph that she'd deliberately left askew. "It'll be on the gossip shows tomorrow night. Bad Boy Tamed. Something cliché like that. These pictures are—who took these?"

"Different people," Natasha said. Stark traced over the face of one of the little girls in the photo, his fingers pops of color against the black and white. "That one is by a woman named Dorothea Lange. I'm sure Ms. Potts could tell you about her."

"Yeah, she knows a lot about art," Stark said. "She's always telling me how wonderful my— _our_ collection is. I'm worth millions in art alone."

"And how much of it do you like?" Natasha asked. Stark shrugged, looking over at another photograph, brushing his fingers along the bottom of the frame.

"It's an investment. I don't have to like it." Stark turned away from the wall and toward Natasha, sporting a half-smirk that would have come across as smarmy to her months ago but, now that she knew him better, she'd say he looked nervous. "So, you're probably wondering why we're having this conversation."

"Since you walked through the door," Natasha said.

"It's pretty simple," Stark said. "Fact is...Rhodey just laughs when I try to talk to him about Pepper, Happy refuses to have an opinion about any of it, and, out of the people I actually like spending time with, you're the only other one who's met her. Which I should probably fix the next time she's in town—JARVIS, remind me to introduce Pepper to the Avengers when she gets back to New York—"

"Noted, sir." The voice of Stark's computer was no longer jarring to Natasha, but part of her always took note of where the sound was coming from—JARVIS had speakers in the most unlikely places.

"—so, you win by default," Stark finished. "I mean, I could tell JARVIS, but he's shockingly unhelpful in situations like this."

"What exactly do you want me to do, Stark?" Natasha asked.

"Come upstairs and have some drinks with me," Stark said, then he made a face, lifting up his hands as a disclaimer. "Not like it sounds, I promise."

"Okay."

"I swear that I will—okay?"

"You're rich and you like to drink," Natasha said. "Either you've invested in the best or you've got the worst swill in the world. I'm curious about which it is. Didn't get much of a taste at your birthday party."

"Well, I'll let you be the judge," Stark said and he looked...relieved, the tenseness in his face relaxing.

Stark's penthouse suite was gorgeous. She'd seen the ruins of it back when they'd confronted Loki but the rebuilt version was even more lovely than she'd have guessed it could be—elegant lines, glass and metal everywhere, modern without being cold. Tasteful. Stark made drinks for both of them, vodka martinis, and he'd unwound even more now that he had a drink in hand, that worried crease between his eyebrows going away.

An hour later, they hadn't even made a dent in what Stark had stocked behind the bar, but they were certainly much more casual with each other. She should have started drinking with Stark months ago, if it produced results like this. Though if he hadn't been the one to invite her, perhaps it wouldn't have worked.

"Pep—she doesn't get it," he said, and he waved his glass, not quite spilling. He frowned down at his drink. "She thinks that this hero bullshit has actually stuck."

"You saying it hasn't?" Natasha stole Stark's glass, ignoring his grumble of protest as she drained it. If they were drinking buddies now, she should definitely be getting more alcohol out of the deal. "Because I didn't notice you objecting when Cap called you a hero after Boston." Though if Natasha never saw another bus-sized alien snake again, it would be too soon. And it'd been worse for Stark; he'd seen the damn thing from the inside.

"Well, that's Cap," Stark said, pouring them each a new drink. "Arguing with him is positively un-American, especially when he's saying nice things about me."

"Far be it for any of us to be less than perfectly American," Natasha said, raising her glass up in a mock-toast.

Stark smirked at her.

"It's good you're getting along now," she added. "That was a concern."

"Yeah?"

Natasha nodded. "He's stalwart. Brave. Died for his country. Well, close enough. And you're— _you_. Reckless. Stubborn. Too smart to con; too stupid to quit. Fury was afraid you'd be—" She waved her hand. "—oil and water. You wouldn't mix."

Their glasses were empty again, but Stark fixed that quickly enough.

"It ever bother you—being on a team run by 'Captain America'?" Stark asked, looking at her over the rim of his glass. "Does it get suffocating? Do you ever want to just throw a flag to the ground and stomp on the stars?"

Sardonic delivery, yet his eyes were sincere.

A year ago, she would have said that Stark would never trust her. Now that they'd done half a dozen missions together, she knew he counted her to watch his back. Still, she'd always figured any other kind of faith would be harder won. Tonight felt like it was coming close to that moment when he'd trust her as more than just a fellow Avenger. And if she _wanted_ him to cross that line, for them to be friends as well as teammates, she needed to be willing to give him something back.

"I was never loyal to much of anything before I met Clint," she said. True enough as far as it went, as far as it could go without delving too much into personal shit that was dead and buried. "He was the first person in my life I...that I would have died for, no questions asked. Russia is...it was the place I was born. It's my history. I thought it was my destiny. Clint changed that. He changed me. Russian, American, Asgardian...I'm not sure I care about any of it. Clint matters to me. Earth matters. The Avengers and SHIELD. Beyond that...I'm not certain."

"You get philosophical when you drink, Natasha." There was a hesitation when he said her name, as if part of him still didn't believe it was the truth. "Can I call you Natasha?"

"Not if you're saying it like that."

"Okay, how about Nat?"

"With a silent 'g', I assume?" Natasha asked, hiding her smile behind her drink. "Don't suppose I can stop you."

"You probably could," Stark said and the way he looked at her was...she wasn't sure. Heavy with thoughts she didn't know him quite well enough to decode.

She held out her glass for a refill. "You can call me Nat," she told him and the smile she got in return was easy enough to read. "Only when we're in private. Never in front of Director Fury. Understood?"

"Loud and clear, Agent Romanoff," Stark said, still smiling. "I will be a model of professionalism in public."

"I'm impressed you said that without tripping over your own tongue," Natasha said. "How many drinks does it take before you start slurring words?"

"Let's find out," Stark said, raising his glass.

* * *

"Agent Romanoff?" The AI's voice was quiet and gentle, just loud enough that it nudged her awake. "I was told you have a nine o'clock meeting with SHIELD this morning. If you return to your quarters now, you should have ample time to prepare before you need to leave."

Natasha opened her eyes and propped herself up on her elbow. She'd fallen asleep on Stark's long white couch, which was unsurprisingly comfortable. There was no sign of Stark, so he'd likely managed to get back to his own bed. It wasn't yet dawn, with only artificial light coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Thank you, JARVIS," Natasha said. "Were you the one who kept reminding us to drink water last night?"

"Indeed I was, Agent Romanoff."

"Thank you for that, too," she said. "You take good care of Stark."

"I do try. However, it is a far healthier choice to refrain from overindulging in the first place." The voice sounded reproachful. Nice trick.

"No more drinking contests," Natasha said. "Got it."

The door leading to Stark's bedroom was half-open but Natasha curbed her curiosity. Stark had security cameras scattered all over the place and JARVIS never stopped watching. Perhaps not in the bedroom itself—the one Stark had given her hadn't been bugged—but all the main rooms would be covered.

After she'd freshened up in her own room, she headed down to the lobby. Clint was waiting for her, leaning against the wide glass window. They grabbed breakfast at a nearby diner, and Clint was full of enthusiastic energy. He was a natural for the team—she'd always known that he would be, if the Avengers ever actually got off the ground—and he'd managed to bounce back from being compromised with a resilience she envied, throwing himself into their recent missions with passion and grace.

Natasha wasn't like Clint; she was still compromised. It was remarkably like what she'd felt when she'd met Clint the first time and he'd made the choice not to kill her. When he'd changed everything.

When Clint had compromised her—when he'd made her care about something more than her own skin and the next mission—she'd never recovered from it. There had been a sharp dividing line between before-Clint and after-Clint, so wide and deep that she couldn't imagine ever returning to the person she'd once been—and now there was a new line, a new before and after.

She had a feeling she wouldn't recover from this one either.

The meeting was tedious, as all meetings were, though Clint and Coulson made it bearable. Coulson wasn't as good a liaison between SHIELD and the Avengers these days, not with Stark and Steve still a bit sore over being lied to about him being dead, but he was as good a handler as ever.

Most of the time, these days, his job consisted of checking in with Natasha and Clint on how the Avengers gig was treating them and occasionally giving them a short-term job. Their options were more limited now. She and Clint had managed to mostly stay off camera during their various public Avengers missions but even a little exposure could be too much. It was decidedly to their benefit that their other teammates grabbed so much attention.

Since everyone had moved into Stark's place—sure, he called it Avengers Tower, but it was his money that paid for everything—things had been fairly quiet. Stark had been taking care of business matters, mostly ignoring his new houseguests and letting them settle in. Natasha was torn on whether or not that was an idea that had come from Potts, who had spent most of the last two months in Washington.

She hadn't realized until Stark said it that she was the only Avenger who'd actually met Potts. It was both strange and yet not—they'd met because of Stark's company, where Potts ran the ship. If Natasha hadn't been the one picked to evaluate Stark, she'd never have had any reason to meet Potts either. And up until two months ago, the Avengers' missions had all been somewhat haphazard, the six of them—five if they didn't have time to contact Thor in Asgard—coming together to deal with a problem and then going their separate ways again.

She suspected things would be very different now that they had a permanent base of operations, something not owned by SHIELD. Banner, in particular, was still twitchy around SHIELD.

Couldn't blame him, not really.

Natasha studied Coulson as Clint talked about the new arrowheads that Stark had made for him. There was a faint smile on Coulson's face. He'd been the first person to scout out Stark for the team and Natasha suspected that he still felt slightly proprietary over Stark's contributions.

Coulson nodded as Clint finished up, then he turned toward Natasha. "How's Doctor Banner adjusting?"

"Banner is stable," Natasha said. "Stark's approach appears to be working quite well."

"I'm not surprised. All of you have been exceeding expectations by a wide margin," Coulson said. "Well, the two of you are released. I'll see you again in next month."

When they got back to the Tower, JARVIS told them that Stark was gathering everyone on the training level. Natasha had been in the Tower's gym before, but it remained impressive—as tall as three floors, divided into sections for individual and group training. Stark said that he had another place upstate that he was building for more extensive obstacle courses and to include an archery field for Clint, but it wouldn't be finished for another couple of months.

Stark was talking to Banner and a vaguely-familiar woman wearing jeans and a plaid button-down shirt—ah, Doctor Jane Foster—while Thor was showing off something about his hammer to Steve and Foster's young assistant, whose name Natasha didn't recall. She guessed that Stark, Banner, and Foster were talking science; Stark's hands were in motion as he spoke, describing something in circles and lines.

She headed toward Stark and Banner, while Clint went in the direction of Steve and Thor. When she was a few steps away, Stark saw her, and his smile appeared to be genuine.

"Nat, have you met Doctor Jane Foster?" he asked. "She might just be the second-smartest person in the room right now; it's a close call. Solid researcher with some spectacularly brilliant leaps of deductive reasoning. Doctor Foster, this vision of deadliness is the Black Widow aka Natasha Romanoff aka Natalie Rushman aka the woman carrying more hidden weapons right now than you've ever imagined existed."

"That's quite an introduction," Doctor Foster said. Her smile for Stark was indulgent and possibly just a little star-struck, though she hid it well. She held her hand out towards Natasha. "It's nice to finally meet you, to meet all of you, really. Thor and Erik—Doctor Selvig—have been nothing but enthusiastic." Foster's grip was firm and no-nonsense and it fit the way she spoke, welcoming without being fussy.

"It's a pleasure, Doctor Foster," Natasha said. "Hope I wasn't interrupting any breakthroughs."

Foster grinned, looking nearly as young as her assistant. "Mr. Stark was just explaining how the Iron Man armor works."

"It's been educational," Banner said. Stark threw an arm around Banner's shoulder, that smile of his even wider now. "Though now I think we're going to need to talk him out of making armor for the whole team."

"Aw, ignore him. He's just sulking because he's realized his inner Kermit would never fit into a Bruce-sized suit," Stark said. "How about you, Nat—want me to give you wings?"

"I'll leave the skies to you and Thor," Natasha said. "But thanks for the offer."

"If you change your mind, just say the word," Stark said. He gave her a look up and down, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully; it felt detached and clinical, not lecherous. "I'd have you decked out in...hmm, jet and scarlet, I think. You could still be the Black Widow but with more... pizazz."

"My supplies of pizazz are more than adequate, Stark," Natasha said.

"Yeah, you do okay," Stark said. "You should tell Doctor Foster about the Kree invasion that we stopped a while ago. She finds aliens fascinating—it's probably because she's dating one. Meanwhile, I need to steal my darling Doctor Banner and set up our surprise. Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone."

After Stark and Banner had left, Foster smiled at Natasha and asked, "Who are the Kree? Thor hasn't mention them."

"He missed that one. I believe he was busy with something for his father," Natasha said. "It started five months ago, when Banner picked up some strange signals coming out of Antarctica." As she continued talking to Foster, the other group drifted over to listen. Thor and Foster's assistant wanting to hear about it was understandable, but Steve and Clint had been there with her, so she didn't know why they were so interested. Thor wrapped his arms around Foster and she leaned against him, resting her head against his chest, both of them listening intently.

Foster's assistant stared at Natasha, face rapt and her glasses slipping down her nose. Natasha shifted, feeling a bit uncomfortable, but the story didn't take too long to tell and she wasn't doing anything else, so she forced herself to relax and continue on, though she found it easiest to look at Clint or Steve while she talked.

"—and, luckily, the only Earth-related fatalities were a group of penguins," Natasha finished.

Foster's assistant sighed dreamily. "I want to be you when I grow up," she said, her hands clasped together and her eyes fixed on Natasha's face. It was slightly unnerving.

"Darcy doesn't mean any harm," Foster said.

"It's all right," Natasha said, smoothing out her expression, surprised she'd let her guard down far enough that Foster had been able to pick up on her feelings. "I'm flattered."

Foster's assistant— _Darcy_ —flushed slightly and looked away. "Just...you're the only one."

"The only one what?" Natasha asked. Steve and Clint shared a look. A look that involved knowing smiles. She'd deal with it later.

"The only woman superhero," Darcy said, as if it should be obvious. "I mean, Thor is impressive, just look at him, and getting to meet these guys—" she waved vaguely in Steve and Clint's direction. "—has been nice and all. But you...it's different."

"I hadn't thought about it," Natasha said. She'd noticed, of course, that she was the only woman on the team but she hadn't given much thought to the wider implications. She'd never considered herself to be someone that little girls might look up to—except most of them would barely even know that a woman _was_ an Avenger and none of them knew who she was, not like people knew about Stark or Steve. She'd counted it as a benefit, since it made her outside work easier. Now, though, there was something disquieting about it. "But I'm not a superhero."

"Oh, please," Darcy said, with a disbelieving smile. "You can't tell me that story and say you aren't a superhero."

"I'm not," Natasha said. "I'm just good at getting the job done, that's all."

"Darcy and I were planning to go out for dinner tomorrow," Foster said. "Women only. Did you want to come?" Natasha glanced at Steve, who grinned at her. She looked at Clint, but he was nodding approvingly. She felt vaguely like she'd been set up, which was never a pleasant thought, but she couldn't find anything objectively wrong with Dr. Foster's suggestion.

"I suppose I could," she said, and Darcy's reaction was much more enthusiastic than Natasha felt her words warranted, though at least Darcy didn't try for a hug. Foster began to ask Natasha for her phone number but they were interrupted by an echoing tap, the sound of someone checking a microphone.

There was a drum roll and spotlights directed their attention to a previously dark area of the gym, where Stark was standing with his arms upraised. Natasha suppressed the smile she felt beginning to break across her face—Stark had style. No one doubted that.

He was standing in front of a large area that was vaguely reminiscent of a boxing ring, though much larger, and the ring itself was still dark.

"Welcome, Avengers and esteemed guests," Stark said, leaning forward and speaking into an old-fashioned silver microphone stand. "You are about to witness an event like none other. In this corner, we have The Incredible Hulk!" Stark flourished his arm and a spotlight moved to illuminate a shirtless Banner, who waved at them, looking a bit uncomfortable and very much not green. "He is here to face the beautiful and talented TRICIA — that is, our new Training Robot Instructed in Combat Intensive Activities." Another spotlight whirred and focused on the gleaming lines of a tapering cylinder. TRICIA hovered off the ground, plates shifting along the sides of its form. Natasha narrowed her eyes and studied it. Similar to the Iron Man armor in that it appears to be made of many small mobile pieces fitted together but TRICIA was silver rather than gold, with accents of a paler red than Stark's armor sported. A panel moved and a silver-red arm slipped out the side, looking close to razor sharp. Another panel opened, this one slightly below and further back around the body, and this one had spikes along the blade. TRICIA spun and panels opened and closed, showing off a dizzying array of weapons.

It was spectacular.

"TRICIA, game over," Stark said, and TRICIA froze, all the arms closing up and pulling back into the body of the robot, which lightly touched down to the floor. "That's all you need to tell her when you want her to stop. Now, the first time you work with TRICIA, she'll be in safety monitoring mode, where she'll be assessing how much she can push without actually hurting anyone. Obviously, for Bruce, she won't need any limits; he can survive whatever she throws at him. That's why he's perfect for the test run. Everyone else, she'll assess you the first time and she'll also be able to adapt if your needs change later, though if there's a sudden change, like an injury, let her know. She's smart but she's not quite at the level of JARVIS, so you've got to use your words with her. All right, TRICIA, time to play."

TRICIA hummed and lifted up from the ground again. Stark came over to join Natasha's group, bouncing slightly on his heels as he turned to face the ring. Banner said, "TRICIA, I'm ready," and then he rippled into his other form even as TRICIA's panels began to open again.

The first thing Natasha noticed was that TRICIA was _fast_. It zipped around Banner like an insect, and it seemed tiny as one in comparison to him.

"So, why not take TRICIA into battles?" Clint asked, as the robot sliced at Banner's arm, narrowly evading his attempts to grab it. "Seems to work pretty well."

"I don't make weapons anymore," Stark said, his gaze was riveted on TRICIA, eyes narrowed and face tense. "She's for training only, not for combat."

Clint opened his mouth and Natasha kicked him in the shin. Discreetly. He glared at her but didn't ask about anything related to the various weapons that Stark had modified for _them_ or about the Iron Man armor. She'd explain later about the difference between what Stark had said and what he'd meant.

TRICIA dove directly at Banner, shooting pellets at him. They bounced off his skin and hit the floor, where they cracked, spilling out a liquid. Banner took a step toward TRICIA and slipped, falling down on his ass. He roared, sliding around as he tried to regain his footing. Whatever was in those capsules was dense and slick; it took him quite a while to get back to his feet. As soon as he was standing firm again, TRICIA had a new trick—flashbombs that flooded the gym with an intense bright light that left all of them blinking. It took advantage of Banner's temporary confusion to hover over him, its base opening and dropping out a net that crackled with energy. Banner grunted as he fought his way free.

A few minutes later, Stark called out, "All right, TRICIA, game over," and TRICIA escaped Banner one last time, heading back to its corner of the ring. Banner stared after it for a moment, looking mournful, and then he shrank back down to his normal appearance. The sadness stayed on his face for another beat, and then it faded as he turned and exited the ring.

"Wow," Darcy said. "I want one."

"I'm sorry but I'm afraid TRICIA is slightly out of your price range," Stark said. "But feel free to come over and play whenever you're in town. She's versatile; she can handle normal humans just as well as she can the superpowered."

"I look forward to testing your metal friend's mettle," Thor said, clapping a hand on Stark's shoulder.

"Agreed," Steve said. "Nice work, Tony. She's amazing. Mind if I try her out?"

"Be my guest," Stark said, gesturing towards the ring.

"Did you seriously just call 'dibs'?" Clint asked. "Is that allowed?"

"You just wish you'd thought of it first," Stark said.

"Well, yes, but that's no excuse," Clint said. Natasha wrapped her arm around Clint's.

"Stark's right; you're pouting," she said. "Let's go spar. I'll even let you shoot arrows at me."

Stark laughed and she gave him a warm half-smile back in return. Friends, then, or something close.

* * *

She met up with Dr. Foster and Darcy Lewis at their hotel room the next evening at six. They had dinner reservations for seven, she was told, but they wanted to have a chance to talk in private first.

"Hot chocolate?" Natasha asked as Foster handed her the cup.

"With a shot of rum," Darcy said with satisfaction. "It's Jane's grandma's recipe."

"Grams liked her rum," Foster said fondly, handing Darcy a mug and keeping one for herself. The hotel room Foster had rented out was roughly mid-level, neither economy nor extravagant, and Foster and Darcy settled down on the couch, leaving the chair for Natasha. "Okay, so. We normally have a 'no superhero talk' policy on these nights off, but if you want to complain about any of the members of the Avengers, we are here for you."

"No complaints," Natasha said. Both Darcy and Foster looked dubious, but didn't press. "What do you normally talk about?"

"Work," Darcy said. She gave an exaggerated sigh. "Mostly it's about work."

"That's not true," Foster said. "I talk about things other than work."

Darcy scoffed.

"I do!" Foster said. "Anyway, if you had a passion, then you would understand. Right, Ms. Romanoff?"

"Natasha's fine." The hot chocolate tasted rich and home-made, with just enough kick to be interesting. Natasha thought about Foster's question for a moment. "I've never felt much of an urge to talk about my work."

"See? Not everyone is so obsessive about their job," Darcy said, triumphantly. She set down her chocolate and leaned toward Natasha. "I wouldn't mind hearing more about what you do, though. What Thor's said has been pretty intriguing."

"Have you ever seen the movie _Grosse Point Blank_?" Natasha asked. Foster let out a startled laugh while Darcy just shook her head. "You should check it out. I have a few stories a bit like that."

"Do you?" Foster asked. Her initial amusement had faded and she was looking thoughtful.

"Before I was an agent of SHIELD, I was an assassin," Natasha said. "It's not a pretty job."

"Wait, you killed people?" Darcy asked. "Like... _people_ -people?"

Natasha shrugged, looking down at her chocolate. "I still do, on occasion, but I believe it's considered somewhat different when you're doing it to protect the world."

"You're serious," Foster said. "I have to say, not the answer I was expecting."

"I'm not going to lie about who I used to be," Natasha said. Her gaze lifted to meet Foster's. "But that's not who I am anymore."

Foster nodded, slowly. "It's going to be very interesting to know you."

"I'd still love to hear some of those stories sometime," Darcy said. "If you're willing to tell me."

"I'll think about it," Natasha said.

* * *

Natasha rolled her shoulders and then moved into the next position, legs spreading slightly and arms raising. She could just barely see Steve out of the corner of her eye, copying her pose. He had wonderful balance and agility but training was something the serum hadn't been able to give him. He picked things up quickly, not exactly a surprise, and it was nice to have something she could teach him better than any of the rest of the Avengers could.

Over on the bench near the wall, Steve's jacket buzzed loudly. He looked at her and she nodded, giving permission. He broke out of the form and went over to check his phone.

"It's Tony," Steve said, holding the phone's screen toward her. "He's got Ms. Potts coming in today and he wants me to come up and meet with her. She's going to be doing all the PR for us. He says she's fantastic."

"She's a very capable woman. I think it's a great idea," Natasha said. "So, why do you look like someone spit on your shield?"

"The last time I was groomed for public speaking, it wasn't exactly dignified," Steve said. "There was... a chorus line. And...songs. I'm not much looking forward to starting that up again."

"Want me to come with?" Natasha asked. "I promise to veto all dancing girls, no matter how much Stark would like them."

"Actually, yeah," Steve said. "Thanks."

Natasha grabbed her jacket from the bench. "Let's do it, Captain."

Neither Stark nor Potts were up in his suite, so Natasha poured herself a drink. Steve didn't care much for drinking, which she couldn't blame him for—she probably wouldn't bother either if she couldn't get a buzz out of it.

"How was last night with Dr. Foster and, uh, Ms. Lewis?" Steve asked.

"They were...welcoming," Natasha said. "So, you and Clint—did you maneuver me into that?"

"What do you mean?" Steve asked, but his cheeks flushed slightly.

"Don't lie to me, Cap," Natasha said. "You're very bad at it."

"Dr. Foster had mentioned how much she and Ms. Lewis wanted to get to know you," Steve said. "That's all."

Before she could say anything in response, JARVIS announced the imminent arrival of Ms. Potts. It was kinda cute how Steve went all stiff and nervous, running a hand over his hair as if it would dare be out of place.

Potts was wearing one of her black business suits, with heels sharp enough that they would make serviceable impromptu weapons. Steve straightened up even more, a tight smile on his face.

"You must be Ms. Potts," Steve said, striding towards her, and it came out with all the awkwardness of a line too-often rehearsed. They shook hands. "Tony said we should be expecting you. I'm Steve Rogers."

"Captain America," Potts said, with her customary self-assurance. "I know. What exactly did Mr. Stark tell you?" Potts seemed a little tired, but her smile was genuine and there was a hint of playfulness in her tone.

"You're going to be handling the press for the Avengers," Steve said, with that too-bright camera smile of his. "He said no one is better at public relations, so I wanted to thank you right away for taking us on."

"I'm going to be doing what?" Potts asked, smile tightening and voice squeaking up at the end.

"You're not?" Steve's brow furrowed. Maybe Natasha should step in, since it looked like Stark and Potts had crossed their wires at some point. She shifted slightly, ready to get up and talk to Potts, when the man himself arrived.

"You're both already here. That's wonderful," Stark enthused as he breezed in the doorway. Apparently, he'd been in his bedroom this whole time. Natasha made a note to herself to remember to always ask JARVIS for those little details. That one had been her own fault; even in a place as safe as Stark claimed the Tower to be, she couldn't let her guard drop too much. Stark's gaze jumped from Steve and Potts to rest on Natasha, and his smile turned teasing. "Oh, hi, Nat. You're here, too; that's great."

"Only for your booze, Stark, like always," Natasha said, lifting up her chin in response to the question in his eyes. Potts jumped slightly and looked in Natasha's direction, startled, before turning her attention back to Stark. Natasha settled down on the couch with her glass and Stark's attention flitted away from her as Potts started talking again.

"Tony, Captain Rogers seems to be under the impression that I've agreed to handle the Avengers' affairs," she said, with a razor-sharp smile.

"You're the best, aren't you?" Stark asked. Natasha wasn't sure if he was pretending to oblivious to the signals Potts was sending or if he genuinely didn't see her irritation. "I don't see why the Avengers should settle for less than the best."

"We've talked about this. You can't just commit me to something without asking—"

"You can do it, though?"

"Of course, I—"

"Good, then it's settled. You'll be great. You're always great."

Potts stared at him for a moment, then Steve said, rather diffidently, "No one's going to force you to do anything, Ms. Potts."

"It's fine," she said. "Just fine. If Tony can be the creative genius behind Stark Industries while still being Iron Man, I can certainly handle a double life of my own." She smiled in Steve's direction, her expression bright and professional and nearly as forced as Steve's had been earlier. "And, please, call me Pepper. We're going to be spending a lot of time together after all."

"You're _Pepper_? Tony's girl?" Steve asked. Potts blinked and Stark spun around to face them, the look of surprise on his face almost comical. Natasha let herself sink just a little more deeply into the couch, almost regretting what a favorable view she had. Steve's cheeks were flushed now, and she could practically feel herself getting embarrassed out of sympathy for him. "Wow. Um, congratulations. It's nice to—not to meet you; we did that already, but to—well. It's awfully swell of you to help Tony out like this."

"It's what I do," Potts said, looking at Stark, and that playfulness from before was gone now and she just looked exhausted. "And I'd better get to work on it."

After she left, there was an awkward silence, Stark and Steve studiously not looking at each other. Steve was still blushing slightly and Stark looked a bit embarrassed, too, or at least off-guard. Someone had to break the tension and it clearly wasn't going to be either of them.

"Virginia 'Pepper' Potts," Natasha said. "CEO of Stark Industries. Tony Stark's fiancée. Same person."

Stark huffed out a loud breath. "Sorry, Cap," he said. "Completely my fault. No way you should have been blindsided like that."

Steve came over and rested his hand on Stark's shoulder. "It's fine, Tony," Steve said. "I've read your file and I've heard you mention both Ms. Potts and Pepper. I should have been able to put two and two together."

"Well, even if you aren't mad at me, I should probably still apologize to Pepper," Stark said. "I'll just go...do that." He patted Steve's hand lightly before pulling away and heading towards the elevator to follow Potts.

After Stark was gone, Natasha said, "Ms. Potts was too surprised to notice it, but I wouldn't recommend calling her 'Tony's girl' as a general rule."

Steve blushed even more brightly. "Right. I remember. Flew out of my head, I guess. I can't believe I thought Ms. Potts and Pepper were two different people."

"'Guessing that you haven't been spending much time watching the news," Natasha said.

"Not recent news. I'm still in the eighties," Steve said. "They could be going better."

"When you get to this century, Ms. Potts will start making appearances," Natasha said. "Mostly to make excuses for whatever it is Stark's done to get himself in trouble."

"Tony does get in trouble a lot," Steve said, but the words were infused with warmth. He smiled down at Natasha. "Room for two on that couch?"

Natasha swept out her arm to indicate the expanse of empty space next to her. Steve settled down, leaning his head back against the couch and letting out a sigh. Natasha nudged his leg with her toe. "Got something else on your mind?"

"If I asked you some questions about a SHIELD agent..."

"What kind of questions?" Natasha asked.

"She said she's related to—to the girl that I—her name is Sharon Carter," Steve said. "And, well, she kinda _looks_ like Peggy Carter, that's for sure, but I wanted to be certain that no one's pulling one over on me. Some of the folks at SHIELD like to see what they can get me to believe."

"Clint would know," she said. "He's been working at SHIELD a long time. Did Agent Carter try to convince you to do anything?"

"She wanted to have dinner," Steve said, sounding rather moody about it. "I told her I'd get back to her. She programmed her number into my phone."

"Okay, Cap, spill—what's really bothering you about this?"

"The way she looked at me," Steve said. "It was...I don't know if she was seeing _me_. Still, it's not right to hold that against her. Half of the people at SHIELD look at me the same way, even the ones I've worked with."

"But you thought someone related to Peggy would be different," Natasha said. "That she wouldn't treat you like a legend."

"It's not right of me to expect more from her than I would anyone else," Steve said. Natasha looked at the way he was holding himself, so lost in his own skin, and she bumped him with her foot again.

"Back to training?" she asked. "Get out some of that frustration?"

"I'd like that."

* * *

Natasha leaned on the back of the couch as Steve watched the day's news. Every time he came across something that didn't make sense to him, he'd pause the stream and ask JARVIS about it. He'd nod at what JARVIS told him, and she could watch him storing the knowledge away. Today, there'd been a flood in the southeast part of the United States, the stock market was up, and Roxxon Energy had announced that they were on their way to developing a clean energy source that would be able to successfully compete with Stark Industries. She'd believe that last one when she saw proof.

A headline flashed across the lower-third of the screen and Natasha tensed up.

"What is it?" Steve asked.

"Justin Hammer. It says he's out of prison," Natasha said. "The man has a—this stupid rivalry with Stark. Nearly got Stark killed a couple of years back."

"The Vanko incident," Steve said, softly. "Do you think we need to worry about this?"

"Hammer on his own is fairly useless. Stark can handle him easily. But if Hammer finds another Vanko, we might want to be concerned," Natasha said. "We should keep an eye on the situation."

"Sounds like a plan," Steve said. "Does Tony have a lot of enemies, would you say?"

"Life he's lived, not sure he could avoid them," Natasha said. "Some people hate him because he's brilliant and successful and they're jealous. Those are the Hammers of the world. Justin Hammer can't stand that Stark's smarter than he is and everyone knows it. Then there's everyone Stark pisses off by being Iron Man, which overlaps with the set of people who hated him for being Tony Stark, weapons manufacturer. Some of those people have adjusted to Stark not making weapons anymore, but some still hold grudges." She paused for a moment, then added, "And some people hate him because he can be an asshole."

"Pretty long list," Steve said.

"On the plus side, people who are loyal to Stark are damn loyal," Natasha said. "There's Pepper, of course, but his driver, Happy, not sure you've met him yet—he was willing to walk into more than one life-threatening situation to help Stark. The scientists who work for him practically worship him. Anyone who gets a chance to see the man behind the image comes away impressed."

"You too, huh?" Steve asked.

"It's a lot easier to dismiss Stark when you've only just met him," Natasha said. Steve sighed in agreement and they both went back to watching the news.

Their phones buzzed at the same time, which meant Avengers business. Natasha checked her messages: _Trouble in North Carolina. 5 mi north Raleigh_.

She and Steve headed off to get suited up.

* * *

The stench was almost unbearable, as if rotten meat and boiled cabbage were mixed together and set on fire.

Natasha wiped some slime off her forehead. Everyone else was just as soaked as she was, except for Stark, of course, who was gloating insufferably about being absolutely dry inside his armor.

Steve was over by the two civilians, talking quietly to them as they tried to scrape themselves clean. No deaths this time, at least, just a hell of a mess.

When Banner shrank down to his normal appearance, slime sloughed off him, leaving him standing in a puddle. He walked out of it, his feet loudly squishing through the mess. He shook one of his legs; it stayed covered in the vividly, violently pink slime. He sighed loudly.

Thor shook his hammer, bits of slime flying off. "This is most unpleasant."

"Yeah, you're telling me," Clint said. "My arrows stopped working halfway through. Stark, how would you feel about making these puppies waterproof?"

"They _are_ waterproof," Stark said. "They just aren't magic-slime proof."

"This stuff smells horrible," Banner said. "Tony, can you get us the location of the nearest hotel?"

"What, I'm your own personal Siri now? But, yes, okay, we just need to go a mile and a half to the southwest," Tony said. "You want me to warn them?"

"Probably a good idea," Banner said, shivering slightly.

Stark jetted off, straight upward, which puzzled Natasha for a second until she realized that he was going to use speed and air friction to clean the muck off his armor. Clever.

She reached back and twisted her hair up, feeling some of the slime drip out onto her neck. At least it wasn't corrosive.

When they got to the hotel, Stark had already reserved a room for them. Once they arrived, Stark headed off to buy clothes for everyone. The civilians were given first crack at the shower and Stark managed to get back before the first one had finished washing up, his hands overflowing with bags.

"No touching until you're clean," Stark ordered. "I do not want to have to smell that shit back at the Tower. The faces you've all been making have been _awful_."

Clint immediately stuck his tongue out at Stark, who just laughed. Natasha rested her slime-covered hand against her slime-soaked cheek and watched the rest of the team as she waited her turn for a shower.

She'd never smelled so bad in her life, she was wet down to the skin, and...

...and Clint was wrestling with Stark now, teasing like he was going to unfasten the armor and get Stark as dirty as the rest of them. Banner was laughing, relaxed like he never was on the Helicarrier or around Director Fury. He saw her looking and he grinned at her. She smiled back and, yes, she was slimy and stinky but she was also _happy_. Sincerely and deeply happy.

It wasn't something she'd experienced too often in her life and she knew better than some how fragile it could be. But, for now, she would let herself enjoy it.


	2. Chapter 2

Five weeks later, they were beginning to settle into a rhythm. Stark and Potts would spend roughly half of each week on their own, either dealing with Stark Industries or with more personal matters. The rest of the week, Potts had executive affairs to deal with, which meant Stark had plenty of time to spend with the Avengers. He spent a fair chunk of that down in the labs with Banner, where they occasionally made things explode.

They all also trained frequently in the gym, getting to better know each other's quirks and how to cover for each other's weaknesses. Natasha had found over the past few months that there was a distinct comfort in being able to trust that the people at her back could keep up with her.

Dr. Foster and Darcy had business of their own to handle in the city. They'd originally only planned for stay for a few days, but complications had arisen. After the first week, they abandoned their hotel and moved into the Tower. Foster stayed in Thor's suite, which put both of them into great moods, while Darcy slept on Natasha's couch.

She still wasn't entirely sure how that had happened. The girl was quiet enough, though, and continued to be non-aggressively interested in Natasha's past. Besides, where else would she sleep? Stark had Potts in his room most nights, Steve wouldn't be comfortable bunking up with a woman he didn't know well, Banner needed his space, and Clint's occasional nightmares about Loki didn't make him the most relaxing company at night.

Anyway, Foster and Darcy would be leaving soon enough, so Natasha wasn't inclined to force the issue.

Steve had taken to sketching just about everyone and everything. He had a gift for adding a touch of whimsy to his work, and a fine eye for detail. Stark had claimed a couple of the drawings Steve had done of the Avengers and he'd had them framed and put up on the walls in the Tower's main lobby. Steve always smiled a little when he walked past them.

Natasha spent a few more nights drinking with Stark. It was always during a time when Potts was away from the city. He never invited any of the other members of the team, so neither did Natasha.

The second time they'd gotten drunk together, he'd come straight from his workshop, dirty and smelling faintly of motor oil. He'd been obsessing over the design of his current armor, unhappy with the color balance, and she'd had to spend half the evening talking him out of melting down the entire suit and starting over. So, the next time, she dressed in an old pair of sweats and had her hair in a messy ponytail, and they'd talked about all the different kinds of poetry they both hated. He never seemed to expect anything _specific_ out of her; he just wanted to talk and, unexpectedly, he genuinely seemed to want to listen in return.

All in all, living in the Avengers' Tower was going much better than Natasha had anticipated.

Today, Potts was in Europe, though Stark hadn't specified beyond that, which meant Stark was bored. And when Stark was bored, he always wanted to do something as a team. No matter how the rest of the team might feel about it. Most of them—excluding Jane and Darcy, who liked to sleep in—were in the dining room finishing up their breakfast while Banner attempted to shoot down Stark's newest activity.

"Movie night is a traditional bonding exercise," Stark said, staring at Banner in something close to horror. He stood up and headed around the table, leaving behind his half-eaten waffles. "It brings together disparate groups of people and allows them to share in one glorious experience. You have fingers meeting in a greasy tub of popcorn, you have the inevitable moment when someone tells you to pause the movie because they have to pee, you have the big manly man—" He patted Thor on the arm. "—finding an unexpected delight in ballet numbers and/or romantic comedies. With all that available, how can you say 'no' to a movie night?"

"What are the chances we're going to all agree on what to watch?" Banner asked. He leaned against the doorway.

"That is a pre-emptive complaint that tells me nothing of substance," Stark said. Natasha smiled down at her plate as Clint reached out and slid Stark's abandoned waffles over to his own side of the table. "At least take the time to get the numbers. Be scientific about it."

"Okay, I'll start," Banner said. "I hate war movies. I'm not a fan of mysteries. Most satires just feel clumsy to me. Horror movies don't scare me. Anything with an attempt at science will probably make me laugh and I can't stand romance in movies. Oh, and nothing with kids."

"You have no soul," Stark said. "Are there any movies you _do_ like?"

"I like some comedies," Banner said, slowly, as if Stark were dragging the words out of him. " _Clue_. Anything by the Marx Brothers. Buster Keaton's funny too."

"Always was more of a Chaplin fellow myself," Steve said, leaning forward. Stark pivoted towards him, expression encouraging. "Did you see the flick he made about ol' Adolph? Our Charlie was a real patriot. Brave as hell." Impressed, affectionate, mildly possessive—it reminded Natasha of the way Coulson talked about Captain America.

"I have seen that one, yes," Banner said. "Not really a comedy."

"Well, it's got some funny bits," Steve said. He shrugged slightly and looked down. "Though I suppose it does count as a war movie, too, at least in parts."

"Let's do a vote," Stark suggested. "How about we watch the movie Charlie Chaplin made before Cap was put on ice? Barton?" Clint shrugged, mouth half-full of waffle. "Excellent, that makes three. Nat?"

"I don't mind," she said.

"Four ayes, that's a majority. I feel good about that number," Stark said. "Hey, Steve, what's the name of the movie?"

"It's called _The Great Dictator_ ," Steve said.

"Got that title, JARVIS?" Stark asked, then he continued without waiting for confirmation. "Tonight, six o'clock. Oh, and my friend Rhodey's coming."

"Wait, Rhodey? Colonel Rhodes?" Steve asked. "I'd love to finally meet him."

"We're going to meet another one of your friends?" Banner straightened slightly. " _Oh_. Is, uh, is the Colonel as nice as Pepper?"

"What an interesting question," Stark said. "We'll just say 'yes' for now and then see what you think after you've met him. Oh, Thor, feel free to invite Jane and Darcy."

After everyone else finished eating and had headed out for the day, Natasha sidled up next to Stark. "It'll be nice to get to know your friend."

"You never met Rhodey? That can't be true," Stark said. "In fact, I'm certain it's not."

"We've met, most memorably at your birthday party." Natasha shrugged. "But I wasn't exactly myself and he was somewhat focused on other things, so this'll be different."

"You know, I've had another birthday since that night. I even had a party," Stark said. "You can't keep calling it my 'birthday party' like it's the only one I've ever had. That's just strange."

"Only one I've been to," she said.

"Not my fault," Stark said. "If you're the one in another country, how is it my fault?"

"If I'd been around, would you have invited me?" Natasha asked. That had been months before they'd all moved into the Tower.

"Of course, I would have," Stark said. "I did invite Barton, but he sent me a strongly-worded refusal. Something about hating rich people. I tried not to take it personally. The rest of you were all scattered to hell and gone, though, so I couldn't even make the attempt."

He meant it. Natasha couldn't—didn't want to—repress her instinctive smile at the realization. Stark stepped a little closer, brows furrowing slightly.

"Look, Nat, this whole team thing...it does matter to me," he said, as serious as she'd ever seen him. "I know you think I'm self-centered and I _am_ but—"

"Stark, _shut up_ ," Natasha said, reaching up and pressing her hand over his mouth. His lips twitched and then stilled under her fingertips. "I'm only going to say this once. I was wrong, okay? The Avengers wouldn't work without you. _You_ , not just some guy playing Iron Man. If we'd wanted the suit, Fury would've contacted your country's military and brought your friend on board instead of sending Coulson for you. So, stop thinking I believe you shouldn't be part of the team. I haven't thought that for months, not since Loki."

She pulled her hand away and Stark stared at her, his mouth falling open slightly.

"I thought you already knew," she said.

"You aren't the most open person in the world," Stark said. "The only time I know what you're thinking is when you're drunk." And that answered a question she'd never gotten around to asking.

"Well, I think of you as a friend, Stark," Natasha said. "Is that open enough for you?"

"It is," he said. "So. Friends. That's good."

Natasha nodded and they both just stood there for a bit, in a silence that quickly threatened to become awkward.

"Okay, I'm gonna go punch something now," Natasha said.

"Have fun," Stark said. "And don't be late for the movie."

* * *

"Thanks for the work-out."

Natasha laced her fingers together and reached into the air as high as she could, feeling pleasantly sore as her muscles stretched.

"My pleasure, Agent Romanoff," TRICIA said, in the lilting female voice Stark had given it. Apparently, Stark had modeled it after a Welsh actress he particularly admired. "Will there be anything else?"

"No, I think that'll be all," Natasha said. "Game over, TRICIA."

TRICIA hummed in acknowledgment and went back to its designated corner.

Natasha went into her normal cool-down routine. Halfway through, the elevator doors opened and she saw Clint step out into the gym. He headed straight towards her, bright flashes of fabric in his hands.

"Blue or purple?" he asked, holding up two shirts. The blue was more of an aqua, while the purple was bold and deep.

"Are you looking to impress someone?" she countered. "Perhaps a lovely dark-haired woman who has been invited to watch a movie tonight?"

"She's cute," Clint said. "You think she'd go for me?"

"I think you won't know unless you ask," Natasha said. "Wear the purple."

"Thanks, Tasha," he said. "Any chance you'd be willing to feel her out for me?"

"How old are we supposed to be?" Natasha asked. "I'm not going to hold your hand, Barton. Ask her out if you're interested. The worst that can happen—"

"—is she'll say no," Clint said. "But rejection is horrible. I don't want to be rejected."

"Suck it up, be a grown-up, and ask her out," Natasha said, finishing up her stretching. "And then you and Thor can double-date."

"I can't tell if that would be the best date night ever or...a complete disaster," he said. " _Do_ you think she'll say yes?"

"We've never discussed our taste in men," she said, heading in the direction of the changing room. "So, I couldn't say."

"All those nights together in your suite and you've never talked about guys? What do you talk about?"

"Murder methods, for the most part," Natasha said. "She's very curious about what I do."

"Murder? Maybe I shouldn't ask her out after all," he said, putting a hand to his chest. She was tempted to ask him if he was planning to swoon. "I have this odd desire to keep all my body parts intact."

She shrugged. "Wear the purple. See how things how things go from there."

* * *

Natasha got in the elevator at five minutes 'til six.

Everyone else—except Stark and his friend, of course—was already waiting in the ostentatiously luxurious room Stark rather casually referred to as his 'TV room', located through the double-doors to the left of the 7th floor lobby. Natasha had wandered through the entire floor back when she'd first been exploring the Tower, but tonight it struck her all over again how expensive Stark's tastes were. Everything was of the best quality—carpets plush, couches exquisitely silky to the touch, and rich, vibrant colors everywhere. Stark never had to skimp on anything.

Still, credit where credit was due, it _was_ likely Stark had built his movie projector himself or at least modified it. He wasn't a hands-off spoiled brat, like some heirs she'd met over the years. Stark had never needed to work, but he had a passion for it all the same. She could respect that about him.

"Is that bracelet new?" Darcy asked when Natasha joined the group.

"It is," Natasha said, holding her wrist out so that Darcy could make impressed noises to her heart's delight. "Straight from the SHIELD lab techs."

"Oh, so it's spy gear? _Neat_. What's it do?"

"In theory, it shoot out a paralytic," Natasha said, rubbing her thumb over the hollowed out beads. The aesthetics of it seemed to have considerably more thought put in them than the actual engineering did which, to Natasha's mind, seemed a backwards way of attempting to design anything. Pretty but useless was not the sort of jewelry she preferred.

"Um, is it dangerous?" Darcy asked.

"It's not active yet," Natasha said. "I wanted to test how it felt before I tried it out with any of the paralytic loaded."

"Oh, that's good to know," Darcy said.

"Even if you were shot with the poison, it wouldn't be too harmful," Natasha said. "It's only meant to incapacitate, not kill."

"Wow," Darcy breathed out. "Can I try it on?"

"If you want," Natasha said, reaching down and unhooking the bracelet. "Hold out your arm."

She smoothed back Darcy's sleeve and wrapped the bracelet around her wrist. It went better with Darcy's outfit than it did Natasha's anyway, the browns of the bracelet matching nicely with the dark red of Darcy's shirt. Lovely color, though it clashed with what Clint was wearing. He should have gone with the blue after all.

"Perhaps you should keep it," Natasha said absently. "It wouldn't hurt for you to have protection."

She gently twisted Darcy's wrist until she felt the click-pop of the mechanism engaging. She frowned. Decidedly weighted along the side of aesthetics. She'd have to see if Stark would be willing to take a look at it later to offer up some suggestions on how to improve it.

As if thinking of him had summoned him, Stark and his friend Colonel Rhodes arrived at that moment. Introductions were given all around and the Colonel seemed as susceptible to Steve's reputation and charm as most of the American and British soldiers that she'd met had been. She could see Steve's point about Agent Sharon Carter—few enjoyed it if a potential lover treated them as a legend rather than as a person. Perhaps she should introduce herself to Carter and see if that was a situation she could help along.

Natasha was introduced last with a simple, "You might remember this one," and Rhodes laughed when he shook her hand.

"Tony spent more than a few hours pissed you managed to trick him," he said. "Gotta admit it made me like you more."

"I appreciate that, Colonel," Natasha said.

"Feel free to call me James," Rhodes said.

"And you may call me Natasha, if you'd like," she said in return. "James."

"Now you're doing it on purpose," Stark said, sounding slightly sulky. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he didn't say anything else.

"May I escort you to your seat, Natasha?" Rhodes asked her, tossing a smirk in Stark's direction. She wrapped her hand around his elbow and they sat down next to each other on one of the couches.

Clint was soon perched on Natasha's other side, holding a full tub of popcorn and a drink, while Foster and Thor claimed a loveseat off to the left. Stark was having a quiet word with Banner, a hand on his upper arm. Steve and Darcy sat together on an empty couch, considerably more space between them than between Foster and Thor. She gave Clint a questioning look and he shrugged.

"You heard about Hammer?" Rhodes asked softly, drawing her attention back to him. He was more serious now that Stark wasn't looking at him. "Can't say I like him being out."

"I'm keeping an eye on the situation," Natasha said. She leaned back towards Clint, who slung an arm around her shoulders. She filched a few kernels of popcorn from the tub. "If there's a risk to Stark's safety, hopefully I'll see it coming."

"Having you around was a lifesaver last time, from what I understand," Rhodes said.

"I helped," she said. "In my own way. You and Stark did most of the heavy lifting."

Then Stark was calling out to JARVIS to dim the lights as he dragged Banner to one of the free couches. Natasha settled in against Clint and turned her attention to the screen that dominated the front of the room as the movie began to play.

* * *

"I mean, at heart, he was a bully who got too much power," Rhodes said, getting up and going over to Stark's TV room bar and fixing himself a drink. "We know where that kind of bullshit always leads."

"Someplace ugly," Steve said, leaning against the back of Stark's couch, half-facing Rhodes. "All we can do is try our best to stand up against them."

"Never underestimate the little guy," Stark said, lazily. "First rule of business...and life. Good choice of movie, Cap. I liked that bit about science and progress leading to everyone's happiness. It's nice to think of things that way."

Natasha couldn't see Steve's face from where she was sitting, but the set of his shoulders was relaxed. She smiled to herself, stretching out on her couch and resting her head on Clint's lap. He stroked her hair gently.

"Yeah, we might not look impressive but we don't give up." Steve laughed. "Well, I didn't used to look...in my head, I'll always be that skinny kid from Brooklyn."

"It's hard to change the way you see yourself," Stark said. Natasha curled her fingers into the fabric of the couch. _Especially_ , she added silently, _if you weren't sure you'd changed for the right reasons_. But it _had_ been a nice movie. Perhaps too idealistic and yet...so was being here, with these people. She'd chosen the side of idealism when she'd listened to Clint all those years ago.

"This conversation is getting way too heavy," Darcy said, hopping up from her seat. "Anyone else up for a little bar-hopping?"

Stark leaned against the arm of his couch, glancing back at Natasha. "Maybe another time," he said.

"I would greatly enjoy a tour of this city's drinking establishments," Thor said. "Jane?"

"It sounds like fun," Foster said. "Natasha?"

Natasha pulled her gaze away from Stark and looked over at Foster. "No, thank you. I think I'm fine. Clint, you said something earlier about wanting to see more of New York? Maybe you should go with them." She pinched his thigh.

Clint stood up, abruptly, letting her head flop down on the couch. Natasha swatted him on the ass and he glared at her, then he smiled over at Darcy. "Okay. Let's go out."

"I'll join you," Rhodes said. "Are you sure you don't want to come, Tony?"

"Not tonight," Stark said. "Bruce?"

Banner studied the group carefully, his gaze settling on Thor before he said, "Sure, why not?"

Natasha didn't move from her couch as the rest of the group left. When it was just the three of them, Stark went over to the bar. "What's your poison tonight, Nat?"

"A margarita would be perfection," Natasha said. She glanced over at Steve. "What about you, Rogers—gonna join us for a nightcap?"

"If Tony's okay making two, I'd love a margarita," Steve said. "But I don't want to intrude. I know this is kinda your thing."

"No one minds you staying," Stark said, busily himself with the drinks. "After all, a good leader should know what his team's doing when he's not around, right?"

Steve laughed, going over to the bar to join Stark. "I'm not sure about that. But I do...appreciate the invitation." He touched Stark's sleeve, smiling warmly.

"Am I interrupting?"

Stark turned at the sound of Pepper's voice, knocking over one of the drinks.

Steve caught the glass before it hit the floor, but most of the liquid had already sloshed out. Natasha propped herself up on her elbows, looking over at the open door as Pepper came into the room, her gaze fixed on Steve and Stark.

"Oh, hey, Pep. What happened to Berlin?" Stark asked. He swiped at his sleeve, which had gotten splattered slightly with alcohol. "You weren't scheduled back for another three days."

"Roxxon snaked an energy deal out from under us," Potts said. She reached up and undid her bun, letting her hair fall loose onto her shoulders. "I needed to be here to put out the fires. I've been in New York all day. I thought you got my update."

"It's probably around somewhere," Stark said. "JARVIS?"

"It was in your calendar, Sir," JARVIS said. "I reminded you at lunch. You told me, 'yes, yes, I know, so shut up about it already'."

"Ah," Stark said.

"I can clear out," Steve said. "If you two need to talk?"

"Oh, no," Potts said, backing up a step. She shook her head slightly, and Natasha could see lines of exhaustion marking her around the eyes. "I can see you're busy. Tony, we'll catch up tomorrow. Goodnight, Captain Rogers."

"Goodnight, Ms. Potts."

Natasha waited until the doors had closed behind Potts before she said, "I don't think she noticed I was here. Again. That's becoming a habit."

"Well, you're a quiet one," Stark said, rescuing one of the unspilled margaritas and delivering it to her. She shifted until she was sitting up again, her legs still stretched out in front of her. "Very spy-like of you. I'm sure Nick approves." He perched on the arm of the sofa. He reached down, slowly, and brushed his knuckles against the top of her foot. "Heels? To a team movie night?"

"Every single one of you is taller than I am," Natasha said. Steve remade the fallen drink and came over to join them, handing one margarita to Stark and then settling on the floor in front of Natasha with the other. Natasha took a sip of her drink. "I need all the advantages I can get."

"Oh, please, like you couldn't take any one of us," Stark said. "You're _clever_ , my dear Agent Romanoff, and that means more than muscles any day."

"Says the self-proclaimed genius." Natasha tipped her drink towards Stark. She glanced at Steve, who was watching them keenly. "This is all we do, Cap. We drink and then we...talk. About anything, really. Stark is under the impression that alcohol makes me honest."

"Well, slightly more honest," Stark said, but he was smiling. His hand was resting on the arch of her foot; she resisted the urge to flex under his touch. "So, what's the verdict, Steve—movie night a win or a fail?"

"I enjoyed watching the movie with all of you," Steve said. "Thank you for setting it up. Maybe next time, we'll even watch something modern, though I'm not sure Bruce will join us."

"There's always _The Adventures of Captain America_. He couldn't pass that up," Stark said. Steve groaned, shaking his head. Stark just grinned more widely. "Oh, yes. It's a work of art. Have you seen it, Nat?"

"I haven't had the pleasure," Natasha said.

"Great choice of words. It's definitely a pleasure," Stark said. Steve curled into himself, covering his face with one hand. "You know, the actor playing the Captain takes his shirt off no less than four times. This in a movie that's not even ninety minutes long."

"Don't worry, Cap, I'm sure his abs are nowhere near as impressive as yours," Natasha said.

"You two are a terrible influence on each other." Steve peeked at them through his fingers. Natasha bit down on her lip to hide her smile. "I should put a stop to this immediately."

"You love it." Stark kicked gently at Steve's thigh.

"I refuse to confirm or deny," Steve said.

"That definitely means he loves it," Stark said, leaning in towards Natasha and lowering his voice to a faux-whisper.

"Sir?" JARVIS sounded slightly tentative. "Ms. Potts added a new item to your schedule. A meeting about the Avengers, set for tomorrow at eight. She's requested this information be forwarded to all members of the team. Shall I confirm?"

Stark straightened up with a sigh. "Go ahead." He turned towards Steve. "Pepper mentioned something the other day about a PR thing she wants us to do. It's probably about that."

"Well, then, I should get to bed," Steve said, standing in one graceful motion. He gave his still mostly-full glass to Stark, leaving Natasha's foot cold when Stark pulled his hand away. "Don't stay up too late, kids."

"Order understood, grandpa," Stark said, with a wink. Natasha waved Steve goodnight and took another sip of her margarita.

"What's this PR meeting about?" Natasha asked.

"No clue," Stark said. "Something Pepper's been working on for a while, though, so if you're willing, I'd love it if you could pretend to be enthusiastic, even if you hate whatever it is."

"Sure. I've no interest in hurting Ms. Potts," Natasha said. "She often does have excellent ideas. You picked a smart one, Stark."

"I didn't really pick her," Stark said. "She was just...there and she was perfect."

"Is that what you're going to say in your vows?" Natasha teased.

"You know, I've actually written them out," Stark said. "A few dozen times. They keep turning into crap on me. I'll probably end up ditching my notes and just making something up on the spot."

"She'll appreciate honesty and sincerity," Natasha said. "Most of us do."

"Are we doing the secrets of the ya-ya sisterhood tonight?" Stark asked.

"Us being _people_ , Stark," she said, with a roll of her eyes.

"I have heard that rumor about women," he said. He emptied one of his margaritas and tossed the glass onto a nearby couch. His hand ended up back on her foot, fingers lightly encircling her ankle. "Men being people is, of course, a complete lie."

"As we all know," Natasha said. She frowned a little, not liking the twist of Stark's mouth. "It's going to be fine—you and Pepper—you know that, right? The two of you are going to have a lavish and over-the-top wedding, followed by an equally ridiculous honeymoon, and then you're going to settle down and be happy together."

"That's the plan," Stark said. His fingers tensed slightly on her ankle, and then he let go and downed the second margarita. He stood up and headed back towards the bar. "Another drink, Nat?"

"Sure."

* * *

Natasha rubbed the back of her neck, wishing she'd taken some painkillers before the meeting. She'd ended up falling asleep on one of Stark's couches again, which was more comfortable than most people's couches but still not ideal, and her back ached slightly. She wasn't twenty-five anymore, after all.

Potts leaned forward, looking at each one of them in turn.

"I think we should sponsor a charity fundraiser," she said. "I have a variety of options for you to decide on as a team."

Natasha studied the folder that Potts had handed to her when she'd arrived. All the details were very clearly laid out, including all the many 'pros' of hosting the fundraiser as well as the few things she saw as 'cons'.

"There's a slight problem that isn't mentioned in this," Natasha said. Stark frowned.

"What did I miss?" Potts asked.

"Clint and I can't attend," she said. "At least, not without some kind of costume, like Steve or Stark wear when we're on missions. We're spies. Maybe our covers are wafer-thin at times, but we can't just appear at this without any kind of cover at all. If the point of this fundraiser is to introduce the Avengers to society's high-rollers... Clint and I can't be anywhere near that."

"I didn't think of that," Potts said.

"You don't think of me as a spy," Natasha said. "Just as part of the team. But the media doesn't know my face or my name. I can't keep doing undercover work while appearing at events like this. I'm sorry, Ms. Potts."

"Well, the rest of you can still go," Potts said. She looked over at Steve. "Unless there are any other objections?"

"I think it's a good idea," Steve said. "This is exactly the sort of thing we should be doing, since people are paying attention to us anyway. We might as well use it to help."

"Then we just need to decide the details," Potts said. "Natasha, you and Clint might still want to be involved with this part. You deserve a voice."

"I like this one for abandoned children," Clint said.

Potts nodded thoughtfully. Natasha turned her attention back to the folder, re-reading the details on each of the charities so that she could make an appropriately informed decision on her vote.

After the meeting, Steve pulled Natasha and Clint to the side.

"I was wondering," he said. "Have you two thought about attending the fundraiser?"

"We can't," Natasha said.

"No, I mean..."

"You mean, have we thought maybe about not working for SHIELD anymore?" Clint asked. "Because that's kinda what it comes down to, Steve."

"I just...I'd like it if you two were there, that's all," Steve said. "Just think about it. No rush."

He headed off and caught up with Stark, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leaning in to say something in his ear.

"Do you want to tell Director Fury or should I?" Clint asked.

"You," she said. "It's your punishment for not asking Darcy out. _You_ get to be the one to tell the Director that Cap wants us to quit our day jobs."

"Oh, I hate you," he said, bumping his hip against hers. "Lunch?"

"All right. I'll pay."

* * *

"Wish we didn't have to leave," Darcy said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "But we'll come back for the wedding, I promise. I mean, who can pass up watching _Tony Stark_ get married?"

"The couch in my suite will be waiting," Natasha said. "If you want."

"Thanks," Darcy said. "It's more comfortable than how I normally sleep when I'm working with Jane. Money; it buys things. Who knew?" She held out her hand and when Natasha took it, she clasped her other hand over Natasha's and grinned.

Natasha smiled back.

"Call me," Darcy said. "Or text. Whatever. Keep me in the loop. Superhero or spy business. I'm up for anything."

"I won't send classified information out on an unsecured channel," Natasha said. "But I'll... I'll stay in touch."

"All I'm asking," Darcy said, her smile brightening. She let go of Natasha's hand and headed over to help Foster and Thor juggle Foster's many bags. Natasha watched for a moment and then turned and headed back towards elevator.

Banner got in with her.

Natasha carefully kept her eyes averted. They were only slightly moist, but it wasn't any of his business.

"It was fun having those two around," Banner said. "Jane is...brilliant. I have to go visit her lab some time. And that Darcy is a charmer, isn't she?"

"It'll certainly be quieter now," Natasha said.

"Hmm." She could feel Banner staring at her. "I was headed up to Tony's workshop. Want to come with?"

"Is Stark here?" Natasha asked. "Has he gotten back already?"

"Oh, no, Tony's still in Reno, but I've been trying to spend some time each day with his little robot friends," Banner said. Then he laughed, like he'd just told a joke. "They seem to appreciate it. Sometimes Steve joins me."

It was strange being in the workshop without a reason, even stranger to be there without Stark around. The robots clustered around Banner, who chatted to them and stroked them like they were household pets.

One of them wheeled up to Natasha and held its single arm out in what came off rather effectively as a pleading position. She fixed it with a cold stare but after it had stayed in place for nearly a minute, she relented and gingerly pet the claw at the end of the arm. This was the one Stark frequently called 'Dummy', she believed.

"Do you miss him?" she asked Dummy. "Are you programmed for that?" It wheeled a bit closer and she kept stroking.

"Not directly, Agent Romanoff," JARVIS said. "But some of Sir's creations have exhibited unintended side-effects."

"Some?" Natasha asked.

"Most," JARVIS said. "Most of us, I suppose."

"Spontaneous emotions," Natasha said, quietly. "Hell of a side-effect."

"Well, Sir is known to be somewhat clever," JARVIS said, clear pride in its—in _his_ voice.

"That he is," Natasha said. Even more than she'd previously given him credit for being.

* * *

Three days later, she was back in Stark's suite, nursing a brandy.

"So, Cap's idea—what'd you think?" Stark asked. "You and Barton considering going public?"

Natasha looked down at her glass and thought carefully about the question, not too surprised that Steve had shared his thoughts with Stark.

Stark kept himself busy with his own drink, not pushing.

"I've said before that I owe everything to Clint, but his decision wouldn't have mattered if the people above him weren't willing to trust him and give me a chance to prove myself," she said. "If Clint and I go public, we won't be able to keep doing undercover work. So, it's gonna have be something Fury agrees to—I know you two aren't the best of friends but I owe him too much not to be loyal."

"If you had to choose between the Avengers and SHIELD—" Tony cut himself off, then laughed. "That's not fair to ask, is it?"

"All of us have divided loyalties in our own ways, don't you think?"

"I don't trust them," Stark said. "I don't trust Nick."

"You don't need to trust _him_ , just know that he'll always do what he thinks is best to protect the planet," she said. "Director Fury believes in you, Stark. He thinks you're a hero. He worries about us, true, but he has more faith in you than you'll ever know."

"I don't like it when people lie to me," Stark said. "He's made a habit of it."

"I know."

"If Nick asked you to lie to me again, would you?" he asked. "Maybe that question isn't fair either, but I have to—I'm asking anyway."

"Lying is something I've done for as long as I can remember," she said. "But only when it serves a purpose."

"That's not an answer," Stark said.

"Stark, I can sit here and think up half a dozen scenarios where lying to you might save the world," Natasha said. "I can't just dismiss those possibilities and pretend something like that might not happen someday. I can't promise you I'll never lie to you again."

Stark just sat there for a moment, thoughtful and quiet, mouth downturned. Then he asked, "Would you lie to Barton if the world depended on it?"

"Yes," she said, with no hesitation. Stark let out a slow breath.

"Okay," he said. "Okay, I can work with that."

Natasha leaned over to pick up Stark's empty glass, refilled it along with her own.

* * *

"How long will you be gone this time?" Stark asked Thor. "You know, the whole mess of you are invited to the big event. Bring the Lady Sif and the rest of the gang, if you can talk them into it."

"I believe they will relish the chance to attend a Midgard wedding, my friend," Thor said. "I will do my best to arrive a few days beforehand. My father says talks with Loki are going well this time. We have reason to hope my brother is not lost to sense forever."

Natasha exchanged glances with Clint. He shrugged a little, as if to say, _well, you came around_. She rolled her eyes slightly but then nodded.

"We're all wishing you luck," Steve said. "Obviously, he didn't get on anyone's good side while he was here but...if you truly think he can be saved, I'm willing to trust you on that."

"My affection for my brother may be blinding me," Thor said, easily but sincerely. "But my mother's eyes are sharper than mine. She will be the one to know when it's time to release him from his cell...if that day ever comes."

"I hope it does," Banner said. "For your sake. Family's important. Even if it's...unstable family. Of course, I'd also prefer it if he never came _here_ again..."

"I can easily understand that. He has caused this world great harm," Thor said, clapping a heavy hand onto Banner's shoulder. "Come now, we must all embrace as brothers and sisters before I leave."

"We'll miss you," Natasha said, as she took her turn hugging Thor.

A few minutes later, he was gone and they were down to five again. 

"Well, I have some kind of planning thing to go to -- Pepper said I needed to be there in an hour, so I should head out," Stark said. A moment later, Steve remembered that he had a lunch date with Sharon and hurried off to his room to get ready. 

"And Clint and I need to check in with Coulson," Natasha said. "Try not to blow up too many things while we're gone, Doc."

"No promises," Banner said. 

Natasha sent a message to SHIELD. While she was waiting for an answer back, she asked Clint, "So, did you tell Director Fury yet?"

"I'm working my way up to it," Clint said. "The fundraiser isn't for a couple of months. We've got time."

"He'll say 'no'," Natasha said. "So, just tell him what Potts and Rogers want, he'll say it won't work, and we'll go with our lives." Her phone buzzed with the okay from SHIELD to come in. "Okay, we're good."

She started to leave but Clint was just standing there, staring off into the distance. She bumped shoulders with him and he startled slightly.

"Everything all right?"

"Just thinking," Clint said. Natasha raised an eyebrow but left it alone.

He'd tell her when he was ready.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click on the endnotes for content warnings.

"How'd last night go?" Natasha asked Steve. She corrected his form slightly and he frowned. She gave him a comforting pat on the arm. "That bad?"

"Not bad," he said, still frowning. "Just... not good."

"How many of these dates have you gone on?" She turned the music on—she and Steve had recently discovered a shared fondness for Ernesto Bonino's renditions of jazz standards—and got into position opposite Steve.

"Five in the last month, I guess," Steve said, feinting toward her left and then punching toward her right shoulder. She ducked easily, swinging around behind him. "Maybe six if you count... no, five. Definitely five."

"And have you..."

"No matter what your question is, the answer is no," Steve said, stopping her punch and using her own momentum to send her to the mats. "We've done exactly nothing."

"Are you waiting for Agent Carter to make the first move or are you just not interested?" Natasha asked as he gave her a hand up. "Because if you still aren't into her after five dates, it might be time to let her know."

She took the offensive this time, got him down on the floor before he'd said a word.

"It's eating at you that much?" she asked as she helped him back to his feet.

"I feel like I'm leading her on," he said, before rushing her and doing his best to flip her. She slipped away before he could get a firm hold.

"If you don't want to be with her, then you _are_ leading her on," Natasha said, then she backed up a little, holding her hands up in front of her. "Okay, no more relationship advice from me. I have no room to talk. How's the planning for the fundraiser going?"

"Horribly," Steve said, twisting out of the way of a kick. "It'll be strange to only have half the team there."

"Thor won't be back in time?"

"That's the word from Jane," Steve said. "He's going to try to be at Tony's wedding but she said he's not sure he'll be able to make that either. Things are stressful with...well, with his family. How 'bout you? Still sure you won't come?"

"Me and Clint..." she said, circling Steve. "We can't do all the things the rest of you can. You know that, so stop asking."

"Maybe I keep hoping you'll change your mind," he said, with an easy shrug. "Bruce said he isn't planning on staying past the opening speech. You think I can get away with that?"

"Probably not," Natasha said. This time, when he rushed her, she wasn't quite fast enough, and they ended up in a tangle on the floor. She gave the point to him and worked herself free.

"Yeah, that's what I figured," Steve said as he took her hand. "Ms. Potts says people expect more out of me than they do Bruce."

"She's usually right about these things," Natasha said.

"Mmm, suppose so," Steve said.

"At least you'll have Stark to keep you company."

"If he's not too busy with Ms. Potts," he said, tone slightly sharp. Natasha gave him a questioning look and he smiled a touch ruefully. "Don't mind me. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, that's all."

"Happens to the best of us," Natasha said. "Do you want take a break?"

"Nah, I'm good to go."

Natasha kicked at his face and he blocked her, and they didn't talk much for a while.

* * *

Stark was waiting for her when she came out of the changing room, her hair still damp around her shoulders.

"Do you need someone to spar with?" She'd already gone two hours with Steve, but working with Stark was considerably less strenuous.

"Nah, just wanted to talk," he said.

"Sure, whatcha need?" she asked, putting her hair up in a ponytail.

"I was wondering if you were up for drinks tonight." It was different than how he usually asked, though Natasha couldn't quite put her finger on why.

"I thought you and Ms. Potts were having dinner," she said.

"Canceled," Stark said. "She's stuck in Chicago. Snow, I guess. She has no idea how long it'll take for them to start getting flights out again but she's pretty sure she doesn't have a chance of getting here before tomorrow afternoon."

"Couldn't you just—" Natasha waved her hand. "—fly her out yourself?"

"That's exactly what I told her—she said she didn't want to take advantage," he said, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. Natasha studied him carefully. Again, that something different tickled at the back of her mind.

"Well, then, I'll see you at nine," she said. "And, Stark, sorry about your date."

"Don't worry about it," he said, light and careless, and then he was gone.

It was after he'd left that she pinpointed what had been bothering her—Stark hadn't looked at her. Behind her, off to the side, down at the floor, yes, but he'd avoided actually looking at her.

Strange.

She filed it away as something to think about later.

* * *

"Yep, it's broken," Natasha told Clint as she pulled herself back out from under the sink. "You know, it's Stark's building. When something stops working, I take the problem to him."

"He'll just call someone in and I don't want people I don't know poking around in my rooms," he said.

"He might surprise you," she said. "Try asking. I don't know much about this stuff, Clint. What made you think I could fix your pipes?"

"Maybe I thought it'd be nice to see you in a tank-top," Clint said.

"Cute." She tapped his knee. "Real reason?"

"I wanted an excuse to get you into the bathroom," he said, more seriously. "It's the one place I know for sure doesn't have surveillance."

"We hiding something from the team?"

"Not hiding," he said. "Just want to make sure I have the conversation with you alone."

"Okay," she said, throwing a glance at the locked door. "What are you thinking?"

"You know how Rogers wants the two of us to go public," he said. "Six Avengers, all sitting pretty in a row."

"Yeah, but that would mean quitting our work for SHIELD," Natasha said.

"I know," he said. "But I've been thinking. Maybe it would worth it. Who needs us more—SHIELD or the Avengers?"

"We can do both," she said. "We've been doing both. What's made you change your mind on this? Is Cap pressuring you? I can tell him to lay off."

"No, it's not that," he said. "I guess I'm just tired of the shadows, Tasha. Is that selfish?"

"Of course not," she said, wrapping her hand around his knee. "I just...I don't know if I'm ready."

"Don't want to do it without you," he said. "But I don't want to push you either."

"Maybe after the wedding," she suggested. "Ask me again then?"

"Sure," he said. She patted him on the knee before she stood up.

"And ask Stark to fix your pipes," she said. "I'm going to grab some food and take it down to Banner. He's been in his lab for the better part of three days now. Did you want to come with?"

"You go ahead," Clint said. "I've got plumbing to deal with."

After she fetched dinner, she went down to Banner's lab space, where he was slumped across his desk, fast asleep. She tapped the corner of the desk lightly, then more loudly when he didn't wake up right away.

He lifted his head from his hands, sniffed, and then asked, "Is that ginger beef?"

"Sure is, Doc," she said, putting the plates down on the table and then reaching into her bag and pulling out two bottles of beer, handing one to Banner. "How long it's been since you ate, anyway?"

"Tony was here this morning to deliver breakfast," Banner said, with a warm smile. "And to check on how my experiment was going."

"How _is_ it going?" She grabbed a chair and sat at the side of the desk, starting on her own dinner.

"Well, the first few tests came back with no positive results but this one has more promise," he said, nodding at the computer screen in front of him. "If that's the right word to use. I'm looking for a specific frequency for a phrase transformation."

"And what's that accomplish?" she asked.

"Mmm, it would be a confirmation of a theory put out there by a scientist named Pym," he said. "He thinks he can create a size-changing formula, but not using gamma radiation."

"Creating on purpose what you did by accident?"

"Exactly," he said. "If this guy's figured out some way to trigger the same kind of transformation...he needs to be warned about the consequences. But if what he's doing doesn't create the results he thinks it will, if it does nothing at all, then giving him too much information might actually be bad. It might give him what he need to make it work."

"Why does he want it?"

"He's a scientist, Agent Romanoff," Banner said. "There doesn't need to be a reason except 'I think I can'."

"From my... somewhat limited sample of scientists, they generally seem to have deeper motivations than that," she said. "Do you think he's managed it—the formula?"

"I won't know until I've tested it out," he said. "From what I have so far, I don't think so."

"Sounds like that's a good thing."

"Yeah, but it's always what you don't—can't—plan for that gets you in the end," he said.

"True enough," she said, raising up her bottle of beer and clinking it against his. He seemed to realize, rather abruptly, that the food she'd brought was getting cold and he started in on his beef.

She took a sip of her beer, casting another look over at Banner's screen. A second Hulk. That could go... in any number of different directions. Most of them bad.

Hopefully, this Doctor Pym was far away from realizing his dreams.

* * *

"I hope you're in the mood for something hard," Stark said, handing her a shot glass half-full of pale amber liquid. Natasha raised her eyebrow but downed the shot, closing her eyes as the taste of over-proof rum hit her throat.

"You weren't joking," she said, putting glass down and tentatively putting her hand on his arm. "What's wrong?"

"Roxxon Energy and Hammer Industries are considering a merger," Stark said. "They've been working on some under-the-table deals that are going to seriously fuck with our bottom-line. Not normally an issue except..."

He drank a shot of his own, coughed a little afterwards.

Stark wiped at his mouth. "Except we've been funnelling all this money into the Avengers. It's a shit time for our financials to be taking a hit. We're thinking we're gonna need to cancel the honeymoon. Neither of us can leave New York with this mess on our plates. Goddamnit." He poured them each a second shot. "But, you know what? Right now, I just want to forget all of that bullshit. Can we do that?"

She picked up one of the shot glasses and downed the rum, slamming the glass back onto the bar. "Absolutely. JARVIS? Stark and I are going to be very irresponsible tonight."

"Is that wise?" JARVIS asked.

"Sometimes, you need to do things that aren't particularly wise," she said. "Stark deserves a night off, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, I do," Stark said. He refilled her glass. "Cheers."

" _Za vas_ , Stark," Natasha said. "We won't think about money tonight, only about having a good time."

" _Za vas_ ," he said, and he clinked his glass against hers.

* * *

All she could think was that she should have been expecting it.

Stark had been walking a tightrope for months—of course he was going to fall off at some point. She'd written the damn file on him—nothing Stark did should have come as a surprise to her. But she'd let her guard down.

She should have been expecting it but when Stark kissed her, she nearly dropped her glass. Her mouth softened under his and it wasn't much of a kiss; it was just a taste, really, just his mouth on hers with lips slightly parted. If it had been anyone but Stark, she'd have called it innocent.

It was when he pulled away again that she'd realized her eyes had closed. She opened them to find Stark staring at her and only the sloppy set of his mouth gave away that he'd been drinking. His gaze was steady and his hand was on her waist. She carefully put her glass on the counter and then placed her fingers around his wrist. He blinked and looked down, like he hadn't even known he was touching her.

"If you want to prove something to yourself, go to a bar," she said. She squeezed his wrist—not enough to hurt him, but enough to remind him she could. "There are plenty of people out there who'd be happy to spend the night with Tony Stark, filthy-rich playboy."

"Just not you?" he asked, gaze shifting up to meet hers again. He sounded a little puzzled, the way that he did when he was working on one of his engineering problems and hadn't figured out the answer yet.

He was barely touching her and it would be easy to shake off his hand and walk away. Stark was the one backed up against the counter, not her.

If she tightened her hand and twisted with enough force, she could break his wrist. She loosened her grip slightly instead, fingers gentling. She brought her free hand up to cup his jaw, feeling the bristle of his goatee under her palm. If she slid her arm around his neck, she could spin them both around, bring him down to the ground and incapacitate him.

This close, his eyes were the color of warmed brandy. They'd half-closed when she'd touched his face, and his eyelashes were dark and thick in a way that Natasha's only were when she'd put on mascara.

There was still enough room between their bodies that she could bring a knee up if she wanted to and she was faster than Stark, at least when he wasn't in the armor.

"Tell me, Nat," Stark said. "You want this—yes or no? Because I have to say, I'm getting mixed signals here."

Her fingers had been curling and releasing against his jaw, tiny caressing touches. She didn't know what her face looked like right now—but she always knew what her face looked like; she had to know for her work—if she was smiling or frowning or if he'd been able to see the thoughts that had been racing through her mind. His eyes were still partially-closed, wrinkled slightly at the corners with pleasure, like a cat being stroked.

His eyes slid all the way shut when she tilted his head towards her. She wasn't as gentle with her kiss as he'd been, tongue pressing into his open mouth. His hand on her waist tightened for a moment, then relaxed again, sliding down to lightly cup her hip.

"That felt like a yes. Was it?" he asked her after she'd broken off the kiss, those eyelashes of his fluttering as he opened his eyes.

"It was a maybe," she said. Stark pressed his lips together and she couldn't tell if he was annoyed or amused. One of his fingers slid underneath her shirt and touched skin. So slow and teasing it was almost like he wasn't touching her at all.

A corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"Can I take your shirt off?" he asked. "You look beautiful in it, but I'd love it even more if it was on the floor." It should have sounded cheesy as hell but, coming out of Stark's mouth, it...well, it still sounded cheesy but he managed to pull it off.

Natasha shook her head. "You first," she said, taking a step backwards. She watched as he yanked his shirt off in one smooth motion. Natasha brushed her fingers across his chest, warm reactor and warmer skin. She'd seen glimpses but part of her was still impressed at the lack of scarring. Only a slight redness around the reactor itself gave away the damage that had to have been done to Stark's body to put it in there and just the faintest of scar lines remained around it, a delicate spiderweb. She trailed her fingers down his stomach and reached for the clasp on his pants. She could feel his eyes on her, and she wondered what exactly it was that he was seeing.

He let her strip him, stood in front of her naked. It should have made him look vulnerable, but she knew Stark was used to the weight of a hundred hungry cameras, used to being exposed in front of the world. Her own gaze couldn't weigh much in comparison.

Natasha placed her hand against the reactor again, watched as he didn't flinch. So strange to have her hand on a man's chest and feel the whir of machinery. His heart was still in there, she knew, but it was completely inaccessible. Buried.

Two months from now, Stark and Potts would get married. Natasha hadn't had enough to drink tonight to forget that.

She'd done so much worse in her life than sleep with an engaged man. She had blood on her hands a hundred times over. In the end, this was such an insignificant crime. It would add only the tiniest dash of red to a book that already spilled over.

"JARVIS," she said. "Please lock this floor down. Only let someone in if it's an Avengers' emergency."

"Sir?"

Stark nodded, his eyes never leaving Natasha's. "Do it, JARVIS."

Natasha reached up and cupped Stark's jaw. He angled his face down and pressed his mouth against her palm. She shivered; let Stark see it. His hands were on her hips, loose and gentle.

He was still waiting for her to say yes.

"I'm tired," Natasha said. "Take me to bed?"

Heat kindled in Stark's eyes and his mouth was on hers, playful and coaxing. There was no more hesitation in his touch. He asked soft questions as they stumbled from living room to bedroom—what she liked, if this was good, where he should touch. So many questions.

"Even when I didn't trust you, I wanted you," Stark whispered against her skin after they tumbled back onto his bed. It was just sex-talk and it didn't mean anything—she knew she was attractive enough to most men and Stark liked a _lot_ of women—but his words still made her bite down on her lip to keep from saying anything back.

She hadn't dressed up for this—hadn't planned for anything but another night of drinking and talking points of philosophy they would only half-remember in the morning. Stark unbuttoned her shirt and it was just one of her everyday bras underneath, pale blue and starting to wear along the seams. He opened her jeans and her boycut panties were a sudden splash of color, red not because she'd chosen red but simply because they were the first ones she'd grabbed this morning.

"Are you wet?" Stark asked and, thankfully, he didn't wait for an answer, fingers slipping down to check for himself. She'd known his hands would be rough, but they felt better than she could have ever imagined, and she couldn't have kept her hips from moving into his touch if she'd tried. Stark kissed her again as he stroked his fingers over her clit. She yanked down at her jeans, trying to get them _off_ , and Stark laughed against her mouth. She nipped at his lower lip, half-tease and half-warning.

"Damn it, Stark, stop screwing around," she said, but her voice was breathy, lacking control. Her fingers slid along his back, and she couldn't get a firm hold.

"Still Stark, huh?" he said, and he did sound amused now. That infuriating _voice_ of his, lower than usual but laughing at the world, like always. He pressed down harder and she realized, startled, that she was already close to coming. "What should I call you, hmm? Agent Romanoff? No, she'd be too cold, too professional, and far too deadly for me to ever let her in my bed. Nat, maybe? Clever, funny Nat, the only woman who's ever put me under the table in a drinking contest? Or even the Black Widow—bet she'd be killer in the sack. No pun intended, of course."

Natasha pressed her head back against the pillow and closed her eyes, trying to regain focus. This feeling—being so close to the edge—wasn't about _Stark_. It'd just been too long since she'd had a good fuck. Nothing personal. If only he would stop talking.

"I like Natasha though," Stark said, deeper and sharper now, velvet over thorns. He kissed her neck, lazy and slow, his fingers still flicking against her, quick now and so hard it almost hurt. "I like her a lot."

"Shut _up_ , Stark." Her fingers were tightening on his skin even as she spoke and it was only a moment later her body tensed up.

She lost track of herself for a second, maybe two, and then Stark's thumb was on her mouth, gently pulling her lower lip out from between her teeth. She could taste blood. Stark held her mouth open as he kissed her, and it was easy to let him.

The relaxation that came after a climax was making her feel softer than normal.

Between one thing and another, it had been over three years since she'd slept with another person. And Stark wasn't a novice, after all. Nothing extraordinary about any of it. She smiled at him when he broke off the kiss and he smiled back, and it was simple and warm. Stark touched her lip again, fingers lingering over the bite marks.

"You can make noise, you know," he said. "You don't need to keep hurting yourself."

"Not all of us are chatterboxes in bed," Natasha said.

Stark laughed and then he slipped his hands behind her back, unclasping her bra. She shrugged her shirt off and Stark took care of the bra, tossing it off the side of the bed. He cupped her breasts in his hands, and she wrapped her hands around his wrists. "How do you explain the scars when you're undercover?" he asked, a thumb stroking over one of her nipples.

"I don't bother," she said. "Nobody asks, Stark."

"What if I'm asking?"

"Then I'd tell you they're from an eventful life," she said.

He brushed his knuckles over the swell of her breast, right along a thin scar. That was an old one that she always covered up with makeup when she had to wear something low-cut. She'd been around fourteen—perhaps as old as sixteen but no older—when she'd gotten it. The man who'd attacked her had gotten far worse.

His hand moved lower, brushing against a burn mark on her stomach. It was faded now, faint, but he lingered there, his forehead creasing as he outlined the shape of it. She'd nearly died on that mission; one of the few times she'd been tortured and it hadn't been part of a larger plan.

Successful missions tended to blur together but the failures always remained razor-sharp and accessible.

"Oh," Stark said, sliding his fingers along a cut on her hip. It was still slightly scabbed-over. "This is from Wednesday. You told Cap they'd only gotten your suit, you _liar_."

"Don't remember you mentioning this either." Natasha reached up and pressed gently against a bruise low on Stark's stomach, still dark at the center but fading to yellow at the edges. "How'd that get past the armor?"

"Metal cracked along the pelvic seam," Stark said. "In retrospect, the Mark Eleven had a flaw or two. Minor but surprisingly important flaws. The Twelve will be better. I've redone the alloy, double-checked all the connections."

"Took out the snack bar?"

"Hey, I still think I can make that chest-pocket soda-holder work," Stark said. "You'll see and, when you do, you'll eat your words." His hand curved around her ass, lifting her up to press against him. She wrapped her leg around his hip agreeably. She could feel his cock against her stomach but he didn't seem in all that much of a hurry.

She kissed him again, slowly and thoroughly. She'd thought about this, on and off, for the last two years. The taste of his mouth, the way he might touch her. She explored the muscles of his back, finding old scars, learning the feel of his skin. The arc reactor pressed against her breast, hard but not cold. He was an explosion of information this way, laid out under her fingertips.

He was quiet only when she was kissing him—as soon as she pulled away, he was talking again. He liked her legs, he told her. She hadn't shaved in days, so stubble rubbed against his hand as he cupped her knee to bring her closer against him. She shifted her hips, rocking against him slightly.

She pushed up, bracing herself with a hand on his chest.

His cock was a hot pulse of muscle right underneath her. She balanced on her knees, lifting up so that her body only touched Stark's where her thighs pressed against his.

"JARVIS, please turn the lights off," she said.

The room dimmed around them until the only light was Stark. He was silent now and she wondered if he was self-conscious about this. She covered the arc reactor with her hand—not enough to block out all the light, but it made Stark shiver. She'd seen diagrams, blueprints, knew how the network of metal in his chest bloomed outward from the casing. Impossible to remove, even if the shards of metal threatening his heart could be taken out.

"Natasha," Stark said, his voice quavering.

She took her hand off the reactor and reached for his hands, placing them on her hips. His fingers curved, pressing into her skin, and she let out a slow breath. When he flipped them over, she was ready, and she arched up against him after they settled.

He looked different in the dark—older, somehow, and more weary.

Infinitely more breakable.

"I want..." Natasha paused and Stark's hands were gentle, almost ghosts. She touched his face, the corner of his mouth that had gone serious and still on her. She didn't enjoy the words they used in English for sex, found none of them satisfying or sufficient to describe the way her blood felt like it was bubbling up under her skin and heating her from the inside out. But Stark needed to hear them—needed the yes. "I want you inside me."

Stark pressed her down against the bed and kissed her for a long moment, his hand slipping between her legs. His fingers worked on her and in her, stroking. She heard his other hand fumbling with the drawer of his nightstand. He opened the condom packet with his teeth, so practiced it made her want to laugh.

She reached down to help him slip the condom on, her fingers lingering along the shaft of his cock. She regretted not touching him more before. She likely wouldn't get much of a chance, afterward. But then he was sliding inside her and there was no room for regret.

He'd found his mouth again, and she let the stream of words flow over her, not paying much attention to the particulars. He sounded pleased, increasingly so, and that was all she needed to know. His fingers rubbed against her, his rhythm inside her was smooth and deep. She wrapped a leg around his back, letting herself sink into sensation.

She shuddered and clenched around him as she came, biting down on her lip hard. There would be blood again, but it couldn't be helped. Stark could afford to spill out careless words; Natasha had learned the price of carelessness long ago.

Stark was gentling, his thrusts turning shallow, a light press. Natasha braced her hand against his shoulder and then tipped them over onto their sides. She pressed up against Stark, kissed him until her mouth was clean. When she pulled back, he was touching her chin, tilting it up to look at her face and his eyes were—

She looked down, _away_ , and he kissed her forehead, right below the hairline, his hand a slow caress along her spine. She hid her mouth against his shoulder and whispered his name, low enough that he wouldn't hear, trapping it behind her teeth.

There was nothing frantic or rushed in the way Stark moved—he was liquid grace and a warm steady presence. When he came, she knew it by the hitch in his breathing and the way his hips stuttered. She pressed her mouth harder against his shoulder and curled more tightly around him as his body relaxed into her. He stayed in her afterward, until his cock was soft enough that it slipped out on its own.

He cleaned them both up with a damp washcloth he fetched from his bathroom, and then he cupped her jaw and kissed her again, pulling her back down into the bed. He tucked her into the crook of his elbow, his other hand weighing down on her hip.

She let her eyes drift closed and matched her breathing to Stark's. Her heartbeat was slowing, nearly back to normal. The sweat on her body had cooled, but the room still smelled overwhelming of sex and of Stark. She could feel his muscles releasing their residual tension as he fell into sleep. She gave herself a moment to relax into his embrace. She thought of waking up with him, more sex, teasing him, learning his body the way only time and experience could teach.

Then she opened her eyes.

This close, she could almost count his eyelashes where they lay, even in only the light of the reactor. His face was marked with many lines, places where the sun and his smiles and the constant forward push of time had permanently altered his features. His hair had become tousled and he was resting on it in a way that would leave it even messier in the morning.

His mouth had fallen open slightly and she shifted to reach it, stealing one last kiss. Slowly, she lifted his hand off her and slid out from under his arm.

She traced the curve of the arc reactor. With Stark asleep, there were a hundred different ways she could kill him. Yank out the reactor. Suffocate him with a pillow. Snap his neck. And those were just the basics. There were so many ways to kill a man; so many ways to cause suffering.

Hurting people had always come easy to her.

She watched for a while as Stark slept, waiting until she could see his eyelids twitching. Then she crept carefully off the bed, the dim blue glow of the reactor giving her just barely enough light to get dressed again.

Natasha closed the bedroom door as silently as she could and then she whispered, "JARVIS?"

The voice that responded to her was as quiet as her own. It wouldn't wake Stark. "Yes, Agent Romanoff?"

"Tell Stark I... tell him..."

"Yes?"

"Tell him Ms. Potts won't find out from me," Natasha said, finally. It wasn't anything like what she wanted to tell him, but it would have to do.

"I will, Agent Romanoff," JARVIS said. A computer shouldn't be able to sound so disapproving. "Is there anything else?"

"No," Natasha said. "Nothing else."

JARVIS opened the elevator door for her before she could press the button. She went to her own suite and took a shower. When she looked at her reflection, afterwards, she could already see the marks on her body—places turned pink by the touch of his mouth and the rub of his facial hair, the beginnings of a bruise on the inside of her right breast where the arc reactor had pushed unyielding against her skin, the still-tender scabs where she'd bitten down on her own lip. Still, nothing that would last beyond a few days.

She dressed and then headed down to the ground floor. Just as the doors were opening to the lobby, Natasha said, "I'm sorry."

JARVIS didn't answer her, but she knew he had heard.

She went to an all-night diner and had an early breakfast. She drank water, the cold of the ice a welcome shock against her mouth. She ate pancakes, fluffy and sticky with syrup.

She took out her phone and sent in a code to SHIELD. While she waited for them to reply, she ordered dessert. Ice cream, with chocolate sauce and whipped cream and nuts. It was an indulgence but, of course, so was this entire night. She pressed her fingers against her mouth and wondered if the memory of Stark touching her would fade along with the marks.

Her phone buzzed; SHIELD sending her details on where to get picked up.

She got the ice cream to go.

* * *

"I need something to do," Natasha said. She didn't flinch or let her voice crack or let her face be anything but professional. "A job that'll take me out of the country for a few months."

"Is there an issue I need to know about?" Director Fury asked. Natasha tilted her head slightly as she considered the question, weighing the benefits of personal disclosure against those of keeping her own counsel. Fury didn't miss much and she knew that many of the signs of what she'd done were visible but he wouldn't push, not if she didn't want to talk.

"No, sir," she said. "Nothing you need to know about."

"All right, but if something bites us in the ass, you'll take full responsibility," he said. "We do have a situation in France you could help us with—"

Natasha listened, nodded, and accepted the mission.

She didn't go back to the Tower—her role would require new clothes, a new phone, new everything. But before she put her own phone into a storage locker on the Helicarrier, there was something she needed to do.

She typed out a short message and sent it to the team: _UC job. Contact via F if needed._

After thinking about it for a moment, she sent a second text, this one to Darcy Lewis.

_Away on a long gig. Stay out of trouble while I'm gone._

Then she turned her phone off and stored it in her locker. It would be waiting for her when she got back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Infidelity; internal justifications of infidelity; violent thoughts, descriptions of scars.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end for content notes.

There was an itching between Natasha's shoulder blades. She took care not to tense up, rounded the next corner, and then let herself appear to get distracted by a street vendor.

Ah, yes, the man following her quickly ducked back behind the building when he realized she wasn't still walking. She hadn't gotten much of a glimpse—dark hair, perhaps a touch taller than average, graceful—but if she had a tail, then she'd need to adjust how she was handling this mission.

Before she could start thinking too deeply about the possibilities, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

"Allo," she answered, with a cheerful lilt in her voice. "Qui est à l'appareil?"

"Black Widow, is that you?" Steve's voice was strained. Natasha blinked but kept her face relaxed and her expression light-hearted. After three months undercover, it was _good_ to hear his voice, no matter how stressed he sounded.

"Yes," she said. If it had been Fury, she would have continued speaking in French, but she didn't know how much of the language Steve knew; she'd never heard him use anything but English. "What's happening?" Perhaps the man behind her was related to the Avengers and not to SHIELD's investigation.

"Tony is—Iron Man is missing," Steve said. Natasha went completely still for a moment. "And we can't bring up JARVIS. No response, not even for Ms. Potts. A complete system crash, she said."

"Time frame?" Natasha asked. She didn't let herself forget about her shadow and she faded into the general bustle of Marseille, walking in the general direction of the nearest Métro station. If he tried to jump her, she'd take him down. She had no time to play games.

"I saw him yesterday, so it happened last night. I shouldn't have let—" Steve cut himself off sharply. "I'll fill you in on the details when you get back here."

"Soon," Natasha promised. "Captain—we'll find him and we _will_ bring him home."

Someone would need to clean up the identity she'd been using here, but she could call SHIELD, get them started on that. Fury would...well, whether or not he understood, he'd given the Avengers priority for her services long ago. He'd stand by his word. She'd had to cut and run before, so it was easy to slip into that mindset, to focus on what needed to be done.

She didn't let herself think about what might be happening to Stark. With luck, this was a false alarm—maybe Stark had gotten trapped somewhere because his overgrown computer had crashed. Maybe, even now, he was working on fixing the problem.

Maybe everything would be fine by the time she got there.

Not quite a day later, she was back in New York. Steve hadn't contacted her again, which meant nothing new to report. She went to the Tower, since she hadn't heard otherwise. Her fingerprint still opened the door but there was no voice to greet her.

Instinct told her to take the elevator up to Stark's floor. 

It was the silence that was getting to her more than anything else—everything in the Tower had been quiet as the grave so far. Stark built good machinery that ran like a whisper. Normally no one noticed because Stark himself was so loud, but without Stark around...

Natasha stepped out of the elevator and Steve came towards her, wrapped her up in a hug before she could say a word.

"You got here fast," he said, his voice unsteady. "Thank God. Clint and Colonel Rhodes are investigating some leads while the rest of us try to figure out more possibilities to check out. We've also sent a message to Thor through Jane." His arms tightened around her and she let herself hug him back, just for a moment. He hadn't been much given to hugs before she'd left, but it was...nice. Comforting.

"Give me the run-down on what happened the night Stark disappeared," Natasha said, easing out of Steve's arms. His eyes were red around the edges. He looked like he hadn't slept much in weeks. He wore his uniform and Natasha wondered if he'd had it on ever since he'd first learned Stark was missing.

She glanced around the room—Banner and Potts were the only other two people in the room and they seemed tired too, more than just a couple of nights' worth. Banner was restless, pacing near the center of the room, while Potts was still, her hand resting on a window as she stared out at the city.

Potts wasn't wearing the engagement ring Stark had given her. She wasn't wearing a wedding ring either, though the planned date had come and gone a month ago. Her hair was tightly-bound in a bun and every inch of her was spiky and screaming _don't come too close_. Her suit was pale lavender, a dull shade that spoke more of mourning than of spring.

"He went out. Never came back. He's been staying overnight at other locations a lot recently, so we didn't think anything of it until this morning," Steve said.

"I asked JARVIS to look something up for me and didn't get an answer," Banner added, rubbing at his nose underneath his glasses. He was rumpled from head-to-toe, a spot of food staining one wrinkled sleeve. "Basic systems are operational, but the AI is inaccessible. And Tony's suits are all missing. Whoever went after him wasn't taking Tony Stark; they were taking Iron Man."

"He'd been drinking," Steve said. "Hell, he was _drunk_. That was before he left. And then I went to sleep and never even noticed the Tower being infiltrated."

"Stop blaming yourself," Potts said, in a weary tone of voice that implied she'd said as much several times already. "If Tony wants to drink, Tony drinks. You couldn't have stopped him."

"I should have tried, at least," Steve said. "Or gone with him."

"Captain America on a bar crawl after the way you've already been behaving?" Potts asked, turning enough that she could glare in Steve's direction. "Keep on like this and your reputation will end up as tattered as Tony's."

Natasha wasn't sure she'd ever seen anyone look at Steve like Potts was looking at him now—anger bright and sharp in her face. Potts and Steve hadn't been close but when Natasha had left, they'd been friendly enough.

What the hell had happened while Natasha had been in France?

"What angles are we already investigating?" Natasha asked. It seemed to work to break the tension, if only slightly, and Potts looked over. She'd been crying not long ago, her make-up smudged around the eyes.

"Anyone with the tech to take down JARVIS," Potts said. "In theory, it shouldn't be a long list, but the person who would know best is...well, Tony."

"Shame he's not here to rescue himself," Banner said, giving Potts half of a smile. "We could use him."

"We can assume wherever Tony is, he's working to get himself free," Steve said. "Or, at the very least, to get a message out. He'll do what he can. We just have to meet him halfway."

"All he needs is something to work with and he can create miracles," Potts said. Her voice cracked on the last word and she turned back to the window. Natasha touched Steve's arm lightly, knowing he'd understand. He nodded in response, then he looked over at Banner.

"I can set up some basic things that might help us locate Tony, or at least his energy source," Banner said, looking down as his phone buzzed. "SHIELD just confirmed that we'll have full access to their systems as long as JARVIS is down and Tony is missing."

"Okay, let's meet up with Coulson and work the details," Steve said. The two of them headed for the elevator, leaving Natasha alone with Potts.

"Ms. Potts, I feel like there's something here I'm missing," Natasha said. She didn't approach too closely, but came far enough that she could see the reflection of Potts in the window. Potts laughed, a bitter edge to the sound.

"You've been gone a while," Potts said. She turned to face Natasha and she'd relaxed slightly now Steve was gone. She still trusted Natasha, then, which meant Stark hadn't told her about that night. That was useful; it would have been a lot harder to get information out of Potts if she'd felt betrayed. "You're right. You missed a lot."

"You aren't wearing a ring," Natasha said, as gently as she could.

"Well, I suppose I should be pleased Tony's antics didn't make the news wherever it was you'd gone," Potts said. That acidic tone in her voice sharpened, though Natasha could tell it wasn't directed at her. "You see, Tony decided two months before the wedding was the perfect time to start going out to bars to pick up random—" Potts stopped herself forcibly, then continued. "—other women."

"I'm sorry," Natasha said, and she was half-surprised to realize how deeply she meant it. Potts was heartbroken over Stark, that much was apparent, and even if she didn't know Natasha had contributed to that, Natasha knew.

"I could see he was getting frustrated," Potts said. "It was obvious. But I thought he'd grown up enough that he could control his impulses and keep his promises. Stupid of me. Tony does what Tony wants to do. He always has. He hasn't changed at all."

Natasha found herself wanting to defend Stark, which would be completely counterproductive, so she pushed away the urge. "And the friction with Captain Rogers?"

"Friendship appears to be something Rogers values more highly than fidelity," Potts said, bitterness creeping into her tone again. "He hasn't said a word against Tony, no matter how bad the press has gotten."

Steve had told them once how important he believed it was to keep team disagreements firmly within the bounds of the team. He wouldn't let any discord spill over into the public eye if he could help it. No matter how much he might disapprove of Tony's behavior—and she was certain he must—he wouldn't have turned it into Captain America openly condemning Iron Man.

The only surprise in all this was that he'd treated Potts as a member of the public, rather than as part of the group. She lived in the Tower just like the rest of them—or she had, at least—and she'd been helping them out for months with press and schedules. 

"Have we investigated the women?" Natasha asked. She needed to think over this situation with Potts and Steve before talking about it further. And she needed to hear Steve's version of what had been happening, as well as whatever Banner and Clint had been up to during what sounded like a hell of a tangle. "Whoever he went home with the first night is unlikely to be related but once people knew what was happening, it's entirely possible the person who kidnapped Stark first sent in someone to get information from him."

"Oh," Potts said and there was a minefield of pain in that one small sound. "No, we haven't looked into them at all."

"I'll get started on that," Natasha said, and Potts let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"Tony has a lot of fans who spotted him at the clubs, so you can probably find pictures of most of the women online," Potts said. "There are even some videos, if you can stomach it."

Natasha didn't need to ask what kind of videos they were; it was obvious from how hurt Potts sounded. She was already recovering, though, spine straightening and chin lifting as she continued talking. "I have to go back to the office and keep people from wondering where Tony is. If you need to ask me for anything, you have my direct line. I'll answer."

"Thank you, Ms. Potts," Natasha said.

After Potts left, Natasha went over to Stark's bar and poured herself a shot of vodka, drinking it immediately. She refilled the shot glass and went to Stark's bedroom where she smoothed her hand over the rumpled sheets. This was the last place she'd seen Stark. She'd left him here, safe and warm and satisfied.

She lifted the glass up, said a brief toast, then drank it down. She set the glass on the bedside table and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

It would be good for her to see the pictures and watch the videos. Good to remind herself that, for all that they were friends and teammates, she'd been nothing more than another warm body for Stark to lose himself in that night. She could have been any woman at all and he'd have fucked her. She needed to remember that. Stark screwing her didn't make her special; it made her part of the crowd.

* * *

"Director, I hope I didn't leave behind too much of a mess when I pulled out of the mission," Natasha said, hands clasped behind her back. She'd been half-way through a stack of material when Fury had contacted her and it had been a good time for a break. Going through all the photos and text about the women Stark had slept with in the last three months had been daunting—he'd managed to fit more one-night stands into a couple of months than he'd had in the last two years before he'd gotten together with Potts. 

Fury stared at Natasha for a long moment, assessing and deep. She ducked her head away, but then let out a soft breath when he sat down on the bench, motioning for her to join him.

"It wasn't that vital a mission," he said and he put his arm around her shoulder, tugging her in for a hug. She let herself lean against him.

"Thank you, sir," she said. She wasn't terribly surprised to hear him say that, considering the shape she'd been in the last time she'd been in this office.

"You needed it," he said. "Did it help with whatever was eating you?"

"Not really," she said. "It only helped me avoid it."

"Barton came to me, said he was concerned you'd left because he was asking you to go public," Fury said. "Any truth in that?"

Natasha shook her head, smiled. "No. It was... personal. Not Clint. I stepped over the line, boss. I slept with one of my teammates."

There was a slight pause, then Fury cleared his throat.

"And it wasn't Barton?" he asked. "That part's a bit of a surprise."

"Oh, that would have been... a lot healthier," Natasha said. Fury immediately tensed up.

"No. _No_. Oh, no. Please don't say Stark," Fury said, his head shaking slightly. "That man is exhausting to think about on a good day. And this has not been a good day."

"Sorry," she said. 

"He's a plague. No, he's a...fungus; that's what he is. Grows on everyone; brings us all under his spell," Fury said. "His mere existence is an affront to law and reason and..." He sighed heavily.

"You miss him too, huh?"

"Like I said, fungus," Fury said. His arm around her tightened slightly. "You have my permission, by the way, both you and Barton. I can even give it to you in writing, if you'd like."

"Rogers will be thrilled."

"And you?"

"SHIELD has been good to me. I'll always be grateful for everything it's given me," Natasha said. It was possibly the biggest understatement of her life but Fury, of all people, would know the depth and the breadth of her gratitude. "But I think Clint is right. It's time to stop dividing our loyalties. We would never betray you, but the Avengers need to come first." It was strange what a relief it was to say the words out loud. "Clint and I can't hide in the shadows anymore, not if we mean to stand with the others."

"Then it is my very genuine pleasure to inform you that you are no longer an active agent of SHIELD, Ms. Romanoff," Fury said. "And I look forward to working with you in the future, in your capacity as a member of the Avengers."

"Thank you," Natasha said. "And now, sir, I need to get back to the matter of my missing teammate."

"Nick," Fury said. "Feel free to call me 'Nick'."

"That may take a little getting used to," she said. "But I'll try."

* * *

"What's the news?" Natasha asked, leaning against Banner's chair. She'd brought him down a sandwich, which he'd ignored so far.

"Not good, I'm afraid," he said. "Ran into another dead end. How are things going on your end?"

"Nothing so far," she said. "His one-night stands all appear to be...simply women who wanted to sleep with him, no ulterior motives. At least not beyond the obvious."

Natasha watched as the lines on Banner's screen continued to do not a single thing.

"I think I'll go down to the gym," she said.

"Yeah, I've been fighting that urge myself. Except—" Banner stopped and laughed, sharp and pained.

"What?"

"I'm afraid if I let myself...go, I won't be able to come back," he said. "Not while Tony's still missing."

Natasha let herself absorb that information, a slight shiver running up her back.

"We'll find him," she said after a moment, dropping a gentle hand on Banner's shoulder and squeezing lightly. Reassuringly. "Stark's valuable, Doc. No one in their right mind is gonna kill him, not when they have even the faintest hope of using him. We'll get him back."

"Yeah, only he's fairly good at pissing people off," Banner said. He glanced over his shoulder, meeting her eyes, and put his hand over hers. "It's good that you're back. Everyone...felt your absence." He paused, then he added, "You know, I think Pepper missed you most of all. She told me once maybe Tony needed someone like you in his life."

Natasha stilled, and she could feel her muscles tighten slightly.

She made herself relax.

"She said that?" Natasha asked. "What did she mean?"

"Well, she doesn't really drink much with Tony, at least not the way Tony likes to drink," Banner said. "None of the rest of us do, either. But you do. Tony told us you were the only person he's met—"

"—who can drink him under the table. Still, doesn't really sound like the sort of thing that gets a girl a commendation," Natasha said.

"After you left, he started going out again. Two nights later, he was cheating on Pepper, so..." Banner let out a heavy breath. "What a mess."

"Did he—did Stark say _why_?" Natasha asked, uncomfortably aware that Banner's conclusion was based on false information.

"He and Steve had a fight about it right after the news first came out. Tony said, uh, said it wasn't any of our business who he slept with," Banner said. "If they talked about it after that, they kept it quiet. It turned into this vicious cycle. Tony would come home for breakfast, still smelling like whoever he'd slept with the night before and Steve would just... look at him. And then Tony would go out again that night or the next. Went on for weeks like that, right up until Tony disappeared."

"You're right," she said. "Hell of a mess. Not much we can do about it while Stark's still missing, I suppose."

"Yeah," agreed Banner.

"You'll let me know if there's any change?"

"Of course," Banner said, giving her a reassuring smile. She did her best to give him one back.

It was such an odd thing to actually use the buttons in the elevator. She'd gotten so used to simply telling JARVIS where she wanted to go. "JARVIS," she said, brushing her fingers over one of the speakers. "Can you hear me at all?"

No reply.

Natasha pulled off her shoes and socks when she got into the gym. She didn't bother to get changed, just went straight to the heavy bag. After some stretching, she settled right into punching and kicking.

After one particularly hard punch that left her hand aching, her gaze went past the bag and settled on the small metal form resting in the corner.

"TRICIA, are you awake?" she asked, moving away from the bag.

A soft whir, and TRICIA lit up, parts spinning as she came over to greet Natasha.

"Romanoff, Natasha. Level sixteen. Would you like to spar?" TRICIA asked. Not hooked up to the main system, then, so she hadn't gone down with the rest.

"TRICIA, how do you know who I am—is it all based on my voice?" Natasha asked, the hint of an idea forming at the back of her mind. Stark never did anything by halves, after all.

"Voice, biorhythms, personal radiation norms, assessment of body shape, chemical output," TRICIA said. "Would you like to spar?"

"No sparring right now, TRICIA, but I have some more questions," Natasha said. TRICIA hummed. "How close do you need to be to find me?"

"TRICIA isn't allowed out of the gym-level," TRICIA said, vaguely reproachful.

"If we did allow you out, how close would you need to be?"

"Calculating," TRICIA said. There was a pause. "Approximately ten square miles."

"What about Stark? He has a very specific radiation signature, doesn't he? It would be stronger than mine, wouldn't it?"

"Accessing," TRICIA said. "Agent Romanoff _is_ allowed this information. File located. Stark, Tony. Level variable. Search radius...calculating...fifty square miles."

"Thank you, TRICIA," she said. Not big enough if Stark had been taken any great distance. Ah, but perhaps... "Another question—can you give us the radiation signature you would be using to track Stark?"

"I'm not sure how," TRICIA said, forlornly.

What she needed was someone with a bit more experience in this area than she had.

"Wait here," she said. "I'll be right back."

She pulled out her phone as she headed to the elevator and sent a text to Banner: _Tricia has Stark's radiation signature. Helpful?_

As soon as she got out of the elevator, Banner was pushing her back in.

"I need to get that information out of TRICIA and into SHIELD's computers," he said.

"It'll help?"

"Immensely," Banner said. "I thought all of Tony's personal data was lost with JARVIS. Having it could...it could make the difference. We plug _that_ into our tracking data and, well, I don't want to say Tony's as good as found, but we'll get a lot closer to finding him."

Natasha sent messages out to the rest of the team, calling them back in.

* * *

"Oh, it is nice to see your face again," Clint said, coming into the lab and smiling at Natasha, Colonel Rhodes only a few steps behind him. Clint squeezed her shoulder and she smiled back at him. "Sorry I couldn't be in the greeting party."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "How did things go for you two?"

"Horrible," Rhodes said. He and Clint were just as tired and washed-out as everyone else around here—the problems with Stark had clearly affected everyone in his life. She still needed more of the details on that, when there was time. "You said you've had more luck back here?"

"I've got some numbers running," Banner said. "We're hooked through SHIELD's systems, which gives us a hell of a boost. It should be done in...about five hours. Looks like we'll be able to narrow it down to fifteen square miles, which is still pretty big."

"We take TRICIA with us, we can pinpoint him," Natasha said. "She can track him as long as she's within fifty miles, she said."

"Stark's training robot can really find him?" Clint asked.

"I think so," Banner said.

"So, Stark's helping us find himself," Clint said. He laughed. "He really is a genius."

"And he never lets any of us forget it," Rhodes said, with a smile. "Damn, it'll be good to see him again. He needs to stop getting his ass kidnapped."

After that, they settled into waiting. Steve arrived soon, Thor and Dr. Foster with him, with Darcy trailing behind them. Bringing them up to speed on the situation ate up a little bit of time, but not much, and then it was back to watching the clock. Darcy snagged Natasha by the sleeve and they went off into a corner of the room where they talked quietly, Darcy wanting the details of Natasha's undercover job. Natasha shared what she could—Darcy had never been to Marseille and enjoyed hearing about one of Natasha's calmer days there. It made for a helpful distraction.

Colonel Rhodes had called Potts, and she and Happy came up a little while after that. They brought some food with them and Thor, at least, had the appetite to dig in. Potts herself wandered off into one of the side labs.

Natasha asked Darcy to give her a minute and then followed Potts.

"How are you holding up?" she asked, sitting down next to Potts, who gave her a wan smile. "Not long until we get the results."

Potts glanced warily at the open door, took in a deep breath, and got an expression on her face that Natasha found familiar—it was the look of someone who wanted desperately to share her secrets. Natasha made her own expression warmer by slight degrees, encouraging and trustworthy. After another hesitant look at the door, Potts began speaking. "Even with everything, I want to see Tony again so badly it rips me up inside." Her voice was soft. A confession. "No matter how much he hurt me, he's still my... he's still Tony."

Potts shook her head, heavy and tired. She looked over in the direction of the open door again, the sounds of the others drifting in.

"Have you ever been jealous of someone, Natasha?" Potts asked. "So jealous you couldn't even talk to them without...without hating them a little?"

"I've been jealous," Natasha said. She studied Potts's face: the curve of her cheek, the freckles mostly hidden by concealer, the intelligence in her eyes.

"Tony and I had a fight, right before it all started. I was stuck in the airport, talking to him on the phone, and somehow we ended arguing about...about a lot of things. Including the Avengers. Specifically Captain Rogers. And I told him that if he was so very concerned about how Rogers felt, maybe that's who he should be marrying," Potts said, quietly. Natasha stayed silent, keeping her expression open and understanding. "I didn't mean anything by it; I was just...frustrated. When I did get back, we didn't talk about the fight and I thought things were okay between us. Except the next night, he goes out to a bar, gets smashed, makes out with this blonde bombshell. When I saw the pictures on the news, I was angry but I wasn't...I thought...it's a hiccup. We can move past it."

Her voice cracked and she took in a few deep breaths.

"Then...we got in another fight. The next night he went home with...with a man named Randall Kirk. Kirk works in accounting at Stark Industries. Plays basketball on the weekends. Tall, blond, lots of muscles. You wouldn't've have seen him in the footage; Tony kept that one under the radar, but he made sure I knew. He—" she cut herself off, her lips pressing together tightly.

"You think Stark...wants to sleep with Captain Rogers?" Natasha asked. If true, it was an interesting data point, regardless of her personal feelings about it. She'd known Stark had slept with both men and women during his late teens and early twenties but after he'd turned twenty-five, his known sexual and romantic relationships had been exclusively with women.

"Maybe," Potts said. "Or he was pissed off and trying to prove a point. I don't know. We never managed to have a real conversation about it. And Rogers has been...frustratingly supportive of Tony. Someone stuck a microphone in his face and asked him what he thought about Tony sleeping around on me and he just said Tony's personal life wasn't their business and it had nothing to do with Iron Man or the Avengers. 'Leave Tony alone. Stop being vultures'."

"Do you believe they've slept together?" Natasha asked.

"I think Rogers is far too old-fashioned for that," Potts said. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "I do wonder if Tony might not have made a pass that fell through, and all the rest was...you know, if it had just been the women, Tony and I might have been able to work things out. But if he wants Rogers...I can't compete with that. I can't compete with _Captain America_."

She blinked hard and Natasha realized she was holding back tears. Hesitantly, Natasha patted Potts on the shoulder. There was nothing she could say that would help, only things that would make everything worse. Potts sniffled slightly.

"Sorry I put all that on you. I know you and Rogers are friends, I just..." Potts was trembling slightly under Natasha's hand. "I just haven't had anyone I've felt like I could say this to. How pathetic is that?"

"Pathetic isn't the word I'd use," Natasha said. "Maybe...lonely. But that's not your fault." And it certainly wasn't Potts's fault she'd chosen to confide in Natasha.

Natasha had made a lot of people trust her when they shouldn't. That wasn't new. What was new was the sickening twist in the pit of her stomach. Normally, she didn't have to stick around this much after betraying someone. Stark had been an exception in that regard, so maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise Potts would be one too. It was surprisingly uncomfortable.

"Isn't it?" Potts asked and it took Natasha a second to pick the thread of conversation back up.

"Until Clint came into my life, my circle of friends was rather limited," Natasha said. "When you devote so much of yourself to your work, it can be difficult to maintain close ties. Especially if they aren't co-workers."

"All of my friends are Tony's friends first," Potts said wryly. "Every single one. If I didn't know that before all this happened, it's become obvious over the last couple of months. I'm good at making connections, at networking, at keeping in contact, but when it comes down to picking between me and Tony...he's always had a gift for charming people. It used to worry me he had so few close friends despite his many conquests. Then, he finally got all the friends he could ask for and I realized I'd spent so much time worrying about Tony I'd forgotten about myself."

"He's very good at making himself the focus of attention," Natasha said. "I don't think he even realizes he's doing it. It's just always been true for him; the world cares desperately about Stark's opinions and his emotions and his work."

"And even when we realize it's happening, we still go along with it," Potts said. "You know, I knew what I was getting into, when I decided to have a relationship with Tony. I knew that he'd miss the important dates, that he'd think saving my life made up all the crap he would put me through on a day-to-day basis, and that the world would always come first. And I loved him, so I accepted all of that. I thought... it's like being Lois Lane. I always wanted to be Lois Lane, when I was a kid." She looked over at Natasha. "And you don't really know what I'm talking about, do you?"

"I haven't even seen the movies," Natasha said. It was the right thing to say, relaxing Potts further. "That's Superman's girlfriend, right?"

"Yes, that would be her," Potts said. "I was a bit of a nerd when I was growing up." She waved a dismissive hand. "Tony's not much like Superman anyway, let's be honest. He's more like...he's like the Green Arrow—do you know that one?"

"Sorry," Natasha said. "I haven't heard of him."

"No superpowers," Potts told her. "But he's very rich and he pretends to be a playboy."

"Isn't that Batman?" Natasha asked. Clint had taken her to one of those movies, swearing to her she would like Catwoman, which had been true enough.

"No, Batman is...okay, yes, Batman is also rich and pretends to be a playboy," Potts said. "But Tony is nothing like Batman. Trust me on that one."

"It is hard to imagine Stark in the shadows," Natasha said. She rubbed her hand against Potts's shoulder. "I'm going to go check on the others. Did you want me to bring you anything?"

"No, I...I think I could use some time alone," Potts said. She caught Natasha's hand. " _Thank you_."

* * *

Natasha circulated around the room a bit—grabbing some cheese and meats from the platter that Potts had brought—before honing in on Steve.

"Do you have a moment?" she asked. He paused for a moment, looking over at Banner, and then followed her out into the hallway.

"I saw you holed up with Ms. Potts," Steve said. "If this is about the last couple of months, maybe it can wait until after Tony's been recovered?"

"We both know that once Stark is back home, it'll be a while before anyone focuses on the past," Natasha said. "You know that she thinks Stark wants to sleep with you, right?"

Steve coughed, face flushing. "There's...that's not...does she really?"

"She never said?"

Steve looked down, still pinked with surprise and maybe a bit of embarrassment, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

"Steve?" Natasha poked him in the arm. 

"I thought she was kidding around or exaggerating," Steve said. "I wouldn't...I wouldn't have done that to her."

"She knows that part," Natasha said, patiently, not letting herself react to the sincerity in Steve's voice. It wasn't like she hadn't already known he was a better person than she was. "But she doesn't know whether or not Stark _wants_ to—you got any light to shed on that?"

"You'd have to ask Tony," Steve said.

A polite cough interrupted the conversation. Colonel Rhodes stood in the doorway, looking slightly uncomfortable but mostly relieved.

"We've got a lock on Tony. He's being held in southern Minnesota," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of Tony/OMC, Tony/OFC. Pepper thinks that Tony/Steve is a possibility. Natasha abuses Pepper's trust. DC Comics exist in this 'verse; Pepper is a secret comics fan.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning at the end.

Knowing Stark's general location was clarifying. Natasha had been flustered by his disappearance more than she would have liked. Simply having a direction to travel in helped clear her mind. It was...troubling that he continued to affect her like this, but it was an issue that would need to wait to be dealt with until after Stark was found.

She slipped an extra knife into her boot, triple-checked the power on her gauntlets. She was sliding her belt into place when she heard a knock at the door.

"It's not locked." Natasha clipped together her distinctive red hourglass buckle. Darcy hovered at the threshold of the doorway. Natasha spared the girl a smile and she hesitantly entered the room. Natasha said, "You aren't coming."

"I could help," Darcy offered. She was dressed in dark jeans and a long t-shirt with a brightly-colored slogan, her hair up in a high ponytail. Natasha shook her head, gently.

"Potts is already insisting on joining us," she said. "We can't have more than one civilian along. You and Foster are staying where it's safe."

"Jane and I've done things—helped out Thor and stuff. We're not helpless," Darcy said. "I know my way around a taser."

"This isn't going to be a bloodless op, kid. We're going to try to avoid killing, but recovering Stark is our primary objective." Natasha brushed her fingers over her Avengers communicator. "If you want to help, talk to Agent Coulson. But whatever you do, you're doing it here in New York."

Darcy pressed her lips together but seemed to understand that Natasha wouldn't be budged. "You'll be careful?"

"I have an extremely well-developed survival instinct," Natasha said. "I'll be fine."

She allowed Darcy to give her a brief hug, patting the girl on the back.

* * *

Natasha sized up the new face in the hanger bay—a dark-skinned man wearing a blood-red uniform. His suit had what appeared to be webbing between his arms and torso. From the design, it was possibly meant to resemble wings. She took his hand as Steve introduced her, shaking it firmly.

"This is my friend Sam," Steve said. "Sam Wilson. He goes by 'The Falcon' when he's in costume. He has a special relationship with birds and he thinks he'll be able to help us scout out Tony's location."

"Pleased to meet you," Wilson said, giving her a charming smile, teeth bright and even.

"Likewise," Natasha said. "How long have you and Cap known each other?"

"Going on two and a half months now," Wilson said. "We met on my first outing as a...well, I would have said vigilante, but Steve tells me I should say superhero."

"Probably safer," Natasha said.

"Yeah, law enforcement isn't all that fond of vigilantes," Wilson said. "But once they know a guy hangs out with Captain America...the tune changes."

"He does have a tendency to imply respectability by his mere presence," Natasha said. Steve scoffed and Wilson laughed. "But he's fun once you get to know him."

"Thanks," Steve said dryly. "If the two of you are done teasing, I think the jets are about ready to leave."

"All right, and maybe I can finally get to meet your annoying best friend," Wilson said. "Still willing to give him a good one to the jaw for you."

"I appreciate the offer, but his jaw looks better unpunched," Steve said. He looked Natasha's way and flushed slightly. She arched her eyebrow at him with a slight smirk.

* * *

Potts was checking through the jet's medical kit for the third time, Rhodey sitting across from her, watching silently. Natasha found the crackling and rustling slightly irritating but she could understand the urge for action, even if it was redundant. Steve was chatting quietly with his friend Wilson, both their faces tense.

She glanced towards the cockpit, where Clint had been piloting for the last hour, Thor by his side. From the snatches of conversation she could make out, they were talking about wind patterns.

"We're heading into what's called the Driftless Area," Banner said, bringing Natasha's attention back to him. He pulled up a file on his Pad for her to see. "We think Tony is being held at a site in one of these river valleys—here in the southeast of Minnesota, almost to the Wisconsin border. I know it's a long-shot, but have you ever done a...an op in that area?"

Natasha shook her head, studying the topographical map on the screen. She reached out and expanded the view, zooming closer, close enough to begin to see individual forms of trees around their destination. "Zabolio Lake? Is that where we think Stark is?"

"That's the rough center of where he could be, yeah," Banner said. He slumped down in his seat. "Or whoever took him yanked out the arc reactor and that's what we're picking up on."

"Think positive, Doc," Natasha said. "At least it's not winter. Imagine dealing with all this plus ice and snow."

"You're right," he said. "That would make everything considerably worse. Thank you."

* * *

The place Clint had landed the jet had softer soil than he'd have liked, as he complained to all and sundry. No help for it—there wasn't a better site for miles. It would have to do. The back-up jet from SHIELD was ten miles back and in an even rougher patch. 

"TRICIA, you ready?" Steve asked. "You remember what we want you to do?"

"Locate Tony Stark slowly enough for Thor to keep up," TRICIA said, her frame shivering a bit. Natasha wondered if ascribing nervousness to the movement would be going too far. Perhaps not, with one of Stark's creations.

"That's exactly right," Steve praised, rubbing his hand over TRICIA's smooth metal before stepping back. "We'll wait for you two to scout out the location."

"I'll be sending a friend along, too," Wilson said. He whistled and a bird came winging through the trees to land on his outstretched hand. It was a smallish one, all in shades of green with bars of white on the wings and a yellow beak. It made a soft _peet_ sound and Wilson stroked its chest. It flew from him to land on Thor's shoulder. "In case you run into trouble and can't call us, this little lady will find her way back to let us know about it."

The bird called louder, making a show of raising up her wings, then settled down on Thor again, her claws digging in.

"Good luck," Steve said. "All right, TRICIA, find Tony."

TRICIA zipped off, Thor staying close behind her.

"And now we wait," Steve said, once they were out of sight. He went back into the jet. Natasha followed. He'd brought up more maps of the area and she could see him studying, reading through details on the region. She'd read up on some of it herself—the river valleys in this area were winding and deep, but not so impassable there weren't towns and highways twisting around and across the whole of it. He glanced up and waved for her to sit down next to him.

"Getting the lay of the land?" she asked.

"Trying to," he said. "Best-case scenario, Tony isn't being held near any civilians. Not sure we'll get that lucky. Back at SHIELD, they've been looking into who owns land in this area and might have a grudge against Tony but...some of the files are still hand-written. Slows things down."

"Stark would not approve," Natasha said.

"No, he wouldn't," Steve said, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

* * *

Enough time passed while they waited for word from Thor that Potts declared that they all needed to take a break to eat. 

"Heroes who've fainted from hunger aren't very impressive," Potts noted, handing a packet of dried fruit to Banner as she sat down next to him. Natasha ate her ration slowly, interspersing it with small drinks of water. She glanced up at the sky, where the sun hovered halfway between noon and dusk. Night would be better for a raid, most likely. 

After another hour and change, their communicators crackled, Thor's voice coming in over the lines—"TRICIA has succeeded in her mission but a slight problem has arisen."

"Talk to me," Steve said.

"There is a building here, long and low. I believe most of it is buried underground or in the walls of the ravine. Unfortunately, if we tread too closely, TRICIA falters, her power dimming. I myself had to retreat nearly half a mile in order to speak with you."

"So, no tech." Steve nodded. "Okay, no tech. Can you get TRICIA to patch us the coordinates using the system Banner taught her?"

"Aye, that shouldn't be difficult," Thor said. "The Doctor's explanation was quite clear."

"Good. We'll talk soon." Steve clicked off his communicator.

"While Hawkeye brings us closer in, we'd better strip off any extra gear. We'll be going into this one wearing as little tech as possible, especially Starktech." Steve headed around the side of the jet, likely to relay that information to the back-up currently flying their way to meet up with the team.

Rhodes swore loudly until the faceplate on his suit flipped down for a moment, cutting off the sounds. When it lifted up again, his face was composed. "So, anyone going to help me get this thing off, now that it's going to be completely useless?"

"Yours and all the boys in the jet behind us," Natasha said, coming over to join Potts in lending a hand. "Our back-up plan is looking shakier now than it was an hour ago."

"What about your gear?" Potts asked. Natasha shook her head.

"Stark upgraded my gauntlets but the original power source is still active as a back-up," she said. "Everything else I have is fairly straightforward equipment, no boosts."

"But Tony mentioned—" Potts hesitated, her fingers flying as she undid the clasps holding the arm of Rhodes's suit. "He said he helped you out."

"Tricks and gadgets for undercover work," Natasha explained. "Mostly, I asked Stark to improve things SHIELD created for me. He talked about it?"

"He talked about the Avengers a lot," Potts said. "He loved working on projects for all of you."

"It's like I'm not even here," Rhodes said. "Can we stop obsessing over Tony for just a moment?" Natasha shared an amused look with Potts.

"You're good," Natasha said, backing away. "All you need to do is step out of your boots."

* * *

They had to stay low-profile as well as low-tech. Stark's captors knew he was valuable, but they might kill him out of spite if they realized they were about to lose him anyway. That couldn't be allowed to happen.

With some maneuvering, they were able to get the jets within five miles of Thor's location. Pepper and one pair of SHIELD medical aides waited there, ready if they should be needed, while the Avengers plus SHIELD's agents prepared to infiltrate the building.

"What we need is a diversion," Clint said, studying the building in front of them. Two armed guards patrolled the perimeter, with no way of knowing how many others might be inside.

"Maybe a storm," Steve suggested.

Thor nodded, and went off a ways to twirl his hammer and work his magic on the local weather. The basic plan had been laid out by Steve back at the first landing site and he took the chance now to modify it. Natasha and the other SHIELD agents would go in first, since they had the most skill at remaining undetected, with Steve and the others following after giving the agents two hours to locate Stark.

They waited for the rain and hail to start pelting the ground, setting the guards off to huddle for cover. The skies darkened even further and soon night would fall as well. Natasha put her hair back, the better to keep it from catching on branches as she slipped through the trees.

She entered through a window on the eastern side of the building, carefully disabling an alarm on her way in. She sent a code along to the others to warn them of the security system, but then she headed for the area most likely to be the heart of the building.

Natasha did her best to incapacitate rather than kill, as per Steve's orders, but she didn't let herself get slowed down. She only had so many weapons at her disposal and she didn't allow any of them to go to waste.

She took a walkie-talkie from the first guard she came across, spent some time listening in to the chatter on the line. About fifteen minutes and six guards later, she knew where she needed to go. She tapped in another code to Steve and the others, but didn't wait for back-up.

She avoided the main corridors, slinking down back hallways. There was a voice over the line that she'd recognized and once she heard his location mentioned, she didn't give a thought to trying to find anyone else.

* * *

Natasha slipped into the back room and—ah, that man. That man she knew, with his weasel-face and his cowardly heart. He was talking on the phone now, hurried and sharp, flinching whenever the sound of thunder rumbles through the building.

"Why, hello again, Mr. Hammer," she said. She moved toward him smoothly, feeling a warm certainty sparking up inside her. "I'd say it's a pleasant surprise but we both know that would be a lie."

Justin Hammer spun around to face her, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Remember me?" she asked. Recognition flickered on his face, quickly followed by horror.

"You're the psycho bitch that attacked me two years ago at the Expo," he said, attempting a sneer. It wasn't terribly impressive. "Someone let you out of your cage?"

"Look, Hammer. Let's keep it simple. Tell me where Stark is," she said, taking another step forward and easing her gun out of its holster. She didn't have much time before the others got here and she wasn't entirely sure they would approve of her methods. She needed to work quickly.

"What if I say he's dead?" Hammer blustered. Natasha raised her gun and pulled the trigger, the bullet landing in the stone next to Hammer's head. He whimpered, collapsing against the wall, all the fight in him gone. His phone hit the floor with a muffled _clunk_. "He's alive. Oh, sweet Christ in heaven. He's alive. Stop shooting. Holy shit."

"Where is he?" she asked. Her voice was flat and dull, her emotions kept firmly under guard.

"Black Widow?" Steve's voice— _no_ , that was decidedly Captain America—came from behind her on the left. The rest of the team had come in sooner than planned, then. She didn't take her eyes off Hammer, but she inclined her body slightly towards Steve. "What's the situation?"

It was something of a disingenuous question on his part, but Natasha played along.

"It's an interrogation, Cap," she said. "I'm sure you've seen them before."

"He's the leader?" Steve asked. He came up close enough behind her that she could see him out of the corner of her eye.

"Ah, formal introductions are clearly in order," she said. "Cap, the cowering slimeball in front of us would be Justin Hammer, CEO of Hammer Industries. Hammer, I'm sure you've heard of Captain America."

"Mr. Hammer, I'd really recommend that you tell us where Mr. Stark is being held," Steve said. He took another step in her direction, slowly and carefully. She wondered if he could see the tension coiling up her muscles.

"He's alive. Killing him was never the plan. We needed him alive. He told me—" Hammer swallowed, shivered.

"Who told you?" Steve asked.

" _He_ came to _me_ ," Hammer said, staring past her at Steve, pleading. "You have to believe me.This wasn't my idea. It was him."

"A name, Mr. Hammer?"

"I can't...I can't," Hammer said. Natasha studied him carefully—he was sweaty, flushed, shivering. He was more scared of this other man than he was of dying. Well, that simplified things a great deal. "Please don't let her hurt me—you're Captain America, you'll protect me, right?"

"You'll go right back to your cozy jail cell," Steve said. "What about Mr. Stark? Where is he?"

Hammer nodded shakily. He held up his hands and said, "I need to—to reach into my pocket."

"Slowly," Natasha warned, and he obeyed.

He pulled out a frayed white ribbon with a key dangling on the end. An ordinary metal key.

"This is for Stark's room," Hammer said. "He's in the basement. Room B28." He held out the key.

Natasha uncocked her gun and handed it to Steve. Hammer's breath rushed out of him as his shoulders slumped in relief. She came forward and took the key from Hammer, tucking it into her pocket. 

"Is there anything else you want to tell us?" Natasha asked.

"I _can't_ ," he whispered, miserable and sick with fear. He meant it, with every cowardly fiber of his being.

She looked up and Hammer's eyes and he turned pale, clever enough to see what was coming.

Her knife was in his throat before he had time to scream.

She twisted it sideways as she yanked it out, blood spilling over her hands, and then watched as he twitched away his life. She knelt and used the cleanest part of his shirt to wipe the knife clean before she put it away.

"Natasha," Steve said, the smallest of quavers in his voice. She turned her head slightly, not ready to meet his eyes.

"I'll head down to find Stark," she said. "Do you want to come with?"

" _Natasha_ ," he said again, his hand on her arm. "He could have—there were things Hammer could have told us about who was behind all this."

She looked up and his eyes widened slightly.

"No," she said. "He wasn't talking. If he wasn't willing to say anything with a gun aimed at his head, then he's not going to talk in a _cozy jail cell_."

"Is that true or is that what you need to tell yourself?" Steve asked.

"He was more afraid of this mysterious 'him' than he was of me. Would you have been willing to do what was necessary to change that?" Natasha asked. "I don't think you would, Captain. Now, I need to find Stark."

"We'll both go," he said.

They split up when they got to the basement level—no maps to tell them which direction the right room was in, only what appeared to be endless hallways. She had the key, but Steve had his superpowered strength, more than enough to get him through most doors.

None of the doors had numbers and she wished, just for a moment, she'd dragged Hammer down here so he would point out the way.

But it had been so long since she'd killed anyone like that, so intimately, and it had been _right_ ; it had been in protection of something greater. She couldn't let herself second-guess her choice, not with Hammer's blood still drying on her hands. Not while Stark was still missing.

She walked for what felt like hours, though it couldn't have been, keeping track of where she turned and checking each door along the way. There were some guards down here as well, and she took care of them, leaving no one in a position to follow her. For Steve's sake, she did her best not to kill any of them.

Finally, the key turned in a lock. She opened the door carefully, wary of potential traps, but there seemed to be none.

The room was empty, but there was another door at the far end. The key didn't work for that one. She cursed, sharp and fierce, and then pulled out her toolkit and started on the lock. It took time to open it; time she didn't like wasting if it turned out Hammer had misled her.

But then it was unlocked and she was able to swing the door open.

And there—

Tied down, hands to ankles, folded onto his knees. Bleeding from a dozen different places, breathing shallow—but Stark _was_ breathing.

Bloody and battered, but alive.

Natasha prowled around the edges of the room, ripping out a security camera when she found one, then she fell down to her knees in front of Stark.

"Stark, you gotta talk to me," Natasha said, cupping his face between her hands. No response. She tapped her communicator. "Cap, I found Stark. Take the main hallway from the elevator, left at the third turn. Fifth door on the left and then through to the inner room; doors will be open. Stark is conscious but non-responsive. Been tortured. Bleeding seems relatively minor except for one serious injury to the neck. Can't assess potential internal injuries at this time. Pupils not reacting to changes in light. Might have a concussion. We need to get him to a hospital." She clicked it off and waited for a reply.

"On my way," Steve said just a moment later, voice tight with worry. The others would have heard, too, would arrive as soon as they could.

Stark hadn't moved yet, except for the shallow breathing that made blood seep from the cuts on his chest and neck. The reactor was flickering in a way that was worrisome, but at least Hammer hadn't removed it. She pressed her fingers against his chest and his skin was colder than it should be.

They'd saved him. He wasn't allowed to check out now.

"Come on, you stubborn bastard." Natasha pressed her cheek against his. "You're tougher than this. Too tough to die on your knees in a basement." She closed her eyes. Three months spent clearing her head so that she wouldn't care about him so damn much and it would all be pointless if he didn't make it home. "Tony, _please_. Talk to me."

His body shivered against hers and she felt him taking in a deeper breath. She leaned back and looked into his eyes, tried to see if they were focusing. Barely, just barely.

"Tony," she said again, to get his attention, and he blinked slowly.

"Natasha?" His voice was a shadow of what it normally was, hoarse and trembling. "You're here? What about...what about the others?"

"They're coming," she promised. She started doing what she should have done the second she'd found him, loosening the ropes that held him in place. She hesitated for a moment, then added, "I killed Hammer."

"Yeah?" Words so light they could almost be mistaken for a breath.

"Almost wish I hadn't," she said, her hands ghosting over the rips in his shirt. He made a puzzled sound and she met his gaze with a hint of a smile. "It was quick. Doesn't seem fair."

He reached up and took her face in his hands, clumsy and rough. His palms were slick, with sweat and maybe with blood. His eyes still weren't as focused as they should be, but she couldn't look away. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, and she'd never wanted anything in her life like she wanted to kiss Tony right now, to feel him warm and close and alive. She leaned towards him and the longing was an ache creeping under every inch of her skin. Painful and terrifying and still there despite how hard she'd tried to root it out.

An echoing crash sounded from out in the hallway and Tony flinched.

Natasha straightened up, pulled herself back together. "All right, Stark, time to go home."

Tony blinked again, his gaze sharpening. She stood up, reaching down to help him stand too, and Tony made it to his feet just as the Hulk thundered in through the door. The sight of Tony arrested him and it only took a handful of hesitating steps before Banner was there, naked but unconcerned with it, reaching out to tilt Tony's head back and look into his eyes. Steve and Rhodes were the next ones through, with Clint taking up the rear and keeping an eye out for any potential threats. Thor and Steve's friend must have stayed upstairs to keep an eye on their exit.

Natasha let Steve take over the job of holding Tony upright.

She didn't realize she was shaking until Clint's arm was around her shoulders, helping her keep still. She wrapped her hand around his arm, tight as he could stand it without flinching.

"You okay?" Clint asked her, quiet enough that the others wouldn't hear.

"No," Natasha said. She watched as Steve guided Tony out of the room, Banner and Rhodes trailing them like ducklings. "Nothing close."

Once they were alone, Clint pressed a soft kiss against her temple and she let her eyes close for a moment. "You ever plan on telling me you'd fallen in love, Tasha?"

"I was hoping it would go away," she said, raw and honest in the way she could only ever be with him. "Love is pointless, Clint. I don't have any use for it."

"It's not so bad," Clint said. "Though, you know, _Tony Stark_. Maybe you could have gone for a guy who wasn't so much of a heartbreaker." She was done trembling now and she pulled away from Clint, who didn't try to hold onto her.

"Do you think he knows?" she asked.

"Probably not," Clint said. "I didn't, not until all this happened, and Stark doesn't know you like I do."

"I slept with him," Natasha said. Clint nodded. He didn't seem surprised.

"I'm guessing that's why you ran off to France," he said. "Were you the first woman he cheated on Pepper with?" His voice was smooth, non-judgmental. They were assessing a problem, not assigning blame.

"I think I was," she said. "I can't be certain but...I think I was."

"Tipping point?"

"We'd both had a lot to drink," she said. It was an evasion, though, and Clint would know that. She shrugged and started pacing the room. She could feel him watching her. Too much of what she knew contained secrets that weren't hers to share. "He was on edge about the wedding. Again. I think he wanted to...to prove he was still Tony Stark. Not just Iron Man."

"And Tony Stark screws up," Clint said. "Publicly and with as much media attention as possible."

"Yes," Natasha said, but that hadn't been Tony's first choice. She knew she was missing something, but she suspected only Tony could tell her what it was. She stopped at the doorway, not looking at Clint. "After this, when Tony comes home, Potts will take him back."

"You sure about that?" Clint asked.

Natasha made herself _think_ and not just react.

"No," she said, after a moment. "I'm not sure. But she's always forgiven him everything before now."

"What's our play?" he asked.

Natasha hesitated, sorting through her priorities and picking the one that mattered most. "Before Tony...imploded, Potts made him happy. Stable. She was good for him. I want him to be happy again."

"And if Pepper doesn't want him back?"

"Then we'll reassess," she said. "This is what I want, Clint."

"Got it," he said. "We will make Stark the happiest damn billionaire on the planet. Are we going to worry about your happiness at some point?"

"It's better to focus on problems that have viable solutions first," she said. "We'll worry about everything else later."

He shook his head slightly.

"This is not the last time we're talking about it," Clint said, but then he thankfully let the subject rest.

When they got back to the jet, Potts was helping Banner patch up Tony. Clint headed up to claim the pilot's seat, but Natasha hung back. Steve slung an arm around her shoulder.

"We did it," Steve said, quietly. "We're bringing him home."

Banner was speaking a mile a minute to Potts as she pressed a bandage over the large cut on Tony's neck, her face pale and worried. Natasha wrapped her own arm around Steve's waist, studied the pair of them, the way Potts's hands were steady and sure.

"Yes," she agreed. "We're all going home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexist slurs by the antagonist; descriptions of violence.


	6. Chapter 6

Natasha slept the first six hours after they got back from Minnesota.

She collapsed on her bed, removing her boots and gauntlets but not changing otherwise. When she woke up, there was still blood on her hands, caked underneath her fingernails. She took a long shower, blinking into the spray, letting it wash away the red. She dressed carefully—black trousers, green button-down shirt, short boots—and brushed her hair out until it was shining, with a slight bounce. She did her make-up with equal care, blackening her eyelashes and tinting her lips.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a long time after she finished.

Natasha Romanoff was no longer an agent of SHIELD. She hadn't had time to reflect on it earlier—she wasn't even sure if Clint knew yet. She'd adjusted her name when she'd joined SHIELD, but this time she would still be Natasha Romanoff. Still an Avenger. Still Black Widow.

Always Black Widow.

She examined her nails, clean and bare, and flexed her fingers. She could still feel the hot gush of Hammer's blood washing over them. She'd need to make out a full report on that for Steve.

She'd killed a total of nine people the other day, including Hammer, and incapacitated several more. She would need to write down the details of all of that as well.

"JARVIS, are you still gone?" she asked.

No answer.

Natasha met her own eyes again in the mirror—blue and clear. Steady. Nine more dead to add to the tally and one life saved.

She'd had worse days.

* * *

Tony had been taken to a private hospital when they'd gotten into the city, so that's where Natasha headed first. Most of the team took up spots in the waiting room—Banner was saying something to the administrations clerk, Clint was snoozing in one of the chairs with a bandage wrapped around his left forearm, and Thor was sitting with Foster and Darcy. Potts was pacing in one corner of the room, working on something business-related from the way she was gesturing as she talked into her phone.

Darcy threw herself at Natasha so quickly she had no choice but to catch the girl. "You're all right!"

"I said I would be fine," Natasha said. She relaxed into the hug, stroking Darcy's hair. "How'd New York hold up while we were gone?"

"No aliens attacked this time," Darcy said. "If you're looking for the most recent update: Tony is still unconscious. I think the doctors are starting to worry."

"He'll be all right," Natasha said. "He just needs some rest. Is Steve...?"

"Yeah, he's in with Tony," Darcy said. "Room 14."

"Thanks," Natasha said. She gave Darcy one last squeeze and let her go. She made her way around the room, touching a light hand to Banner's elbow as she slipped past him into the hallway.

It was an expensive hospital, this one—Natasha had seen some of the best and worst in her time—but expensive didn't always mean good. She prowled along the halls, inspecting things on her way to Tony's room. Ultimately, she decided it was decent enough, if not ideal.

When she entered room 14, her attention was captured by Tony—wounded, yes, but already beginning to heal. Her gaze drank him in, gluttonous, and she felt like she could stare at him for all of time and not begin to tire of his features.

"Things would be easier right now if we had Hammer to lean on," Steve said, sitting slightly slumped in the chair next to Tony's bed. He still looked exhausted, but not half as grim as he'd been while Tony had been missing. He'd placed the chair so that it had line-of-sight on both the door and the window, which saved her some time.

"You don't know fear in a man's eyes like I do, Cap," Natasha said. Steve leaned forward a little and she could feel him watching her. "I know when a man will break—and I know when he's already been broken. Hammer was broken. He wouldn't have told us anything."

"Whoever Hammer's mysterious partner is, he took down JARVIS and got through Tony's security," Steve said. "We haven't seen the last of him."

"That's not our only problem," Natasha said. "Someone was following me in France; I noticed it right before you called me about—about Stark."

Steve furrowed his brow and then let out a harsh sigh.

"You don't have to pretend with me, Natasha," he said. "I know you slept with Tony."

Natasha looked over Steve's face with care. He was serious; certain. She hazarded a guess. "He told you?"

"No, I figured it out all on my own."

"Is it obvious?" she asked, coming closer and resting her hand on the bar at the end of the bed.

"It's the way you look at him," Steve said. He reached up and stroked at the lines on Tony's face until they relaxed a little in sleep. "I wondered at first why you neither of you told me, but then I realized you thought I'd judge you."

"Yes," Natasha said. There was no point in lying.

Steve sat back in his chair and glanced over at Natasha. He looked like he did in battle, older and so much less innocent. "The reason I'm here at all is because of the war, but none of you ever remember that being a soldier back then wasn't any cleaner than it is now. These things you and Tony think I don't understand—I can, if you give me a chance."

"We're not soldiers," Natasha said. For some reason, it made Steve smile. He looked back at Tony and his eyes were soft and warm.

"It's only a word, Black Widow," Steve said. "The point is...we make do with what we have. The boys I worked with in the war weren't saints. Even some of the ones with girls back home would spend time with local women...or sometimes each other. We turned a blind eye because they were our friends and it got damn lonely out there. Soldier or civilian, we're all human." Natasha was shaking her head before he finished.

"Potts was a phone call away, Rogers," Natasha said. "It wasn't like Stark and I were out in the field with no other options."

"I'm not saying you were doing the right thing. You know you weren't," Steve said. "But you gotta take the consequences of your actions and go from there. You can't live in the past. Believe me, I know. So, as your commanding field officer, I'm asking you, is this an ongoing issue?"

Natasha let her gaze rest on Tony's bandaged arm, the bruising under his eyes, the thin scabbing directly over his adam's apple where Hammer had come close to killing him.

"I don't want it to be," she said.

"Widow, is it gonna be a problem?" It was the same tone of voice Steve used in the field when one of the team wasn't paying attention.

"No," Natasha said, only just barely biting back the 'sir'. "I won't let it." She hesitated, then added, "The Avengers are...I never had much of a family before. I'm not gonna lose that now I've got it."

"I understand," he said. He softened, and he was just Steve now, not Captain America. "Next time things get rough, maybe you could come to me instead of Fury?"

"I will, Cap," she said. "That's a promise."

"I'll hold you to it," Steve said. "Now, what's this about someone following you in France?"

"Not much more I can report," Natasha said. "He was taller than me—not as tall as you. Dark hair. More lean than stout. Good at sneaking but not quite good enough. The mission I was working on for Fury was...something he handed me because I needed the time away from New York. It was a milk run. Nothing that warranted a tail."

"We'll keep a look out for anyone matching that description," Steve said. "Not much else we can do. Was there anything else?"

"I resigned from SHIELD," Natasha tossed out casually. Steve immediately broke into a smile. "Which means I can attend the next public event for the Avengers. If we ever have any more of those..."

"Fishing for information about Ms. Potts?" Steve asked. "Technically, she's still working for us and for Tony. Actually, I should probably talk to her about a few things now that we've got Tony back. I guess he's all yours for now."

"I'll make sure to take advantage," she said dryly. Steve took a long look at Tony, then he got up, lightly running his hand over Natasha's shoulder as he left. She curled up in Steve's chair, next to the head of the bed, and watched the movement under Tony's eyelids. He was dreaming. Hopefully not a nightmare.

* * *

An hour or so into her vigil, Tony stirred. Natasha waited for him to open his eyes and register her presence before saying, "Hey there. Feeling any pain?"

"Thankfully, no," Tony said. "Wow. How many drugs am I on right now?"

"Enough, apparently," Natasha said.

"JARVIS...Hammer bragged they fucked with JARVIS."

"He's down right now," Natasha said. "Some of your people are working on him, but they're pretty sure he needs you."

"Everyone does," Tony said, with more than a hint of bitterness. Then he shook his head. "I think...did you tell me Hammer...that he..."

"He's dead," she said. "Extremely dead. Not sure Steve approves, even now, but this is the second time Hammer's attacked you. He'd have tried again. I had to put him down."

"You make him sound like a rabid dog."

"He was," Natasha said, briskly. "But he also wasn't the main problem. He was working with some other people. He wouldn't tell us who. I've started reaching out to some old contacts of mine. We'll see what that pulls up."

"You don't sound too hopeful," Tony said. "Which doesn't thrill me."

"You'll like this next part even less," Natasha said. "Your tech wouldn't work near the building they were keeping you and...when they took you, they took all of your armor too. Your workshop is a mess; we aren't sure what else they might taken."

"Shit," Tony said, reaching up and rubbing at his eyes. "Goddamnit."

"Yeah," Natasha said. "I'm sorry."

"Okay, so...fix JARVIS. Find out what else they stole from me," Tony murmured. Then he looked up and asked, "When you were rescuing me, did anyone get hurt?"

"Scrapes, bruises, and cuts," Natasha said. "That's all."

"At least there's that." Tony hesitated. "Nat, we should talk. Not about business."

Steve's question from earlier rattled around in her head. Tony and her...she couldn't see any way for it not to be a problem. Simpler and easier to let it die here. What she'd told Clint was true—love wasn't something she had room for in her life. Friendship was of value, two equals standing together, but love...

No, love wasn't of any use to her. It was meant for the young or for the naïve, not for people like her.

"There's nothing to talk about," she said. "You need to heal. We all need to figure out who was behind this. We don't have time for personal, Stark."

"Stark," he said. He let out a soft laugh. "Right, of course."

"I'll let the others know you're awake," she said.

She let herself out and headed back to the waiting room. Potts and Steve were in deep conversation, so she tapped Banner on the elbow.

"Stark's awake," she said. "You could go say 'hi' before he gets bombarded with work."

"Thank you," Banner said, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He headed off in the direction of Tony's room. Natasha settled herself in next to Clint, who was still sleeping.

* * *

Potts and Steve finished talking before Clint woke up, so Natasha went over to join them when Potts beckoned.

"I just heard the good news," Potts said, laying a hand on Natasha's arm. "I've already got an idea for a new event where we can show you and Hawkeye off—the two mystery Avengers finally revealed. People are going to be charmed. I'll make sure of it."

"Let me know the details when you have them," Natasha said, pressing her own hand over Potts's reassuringly. Potts smiled at her and then headed off in Tony's direction. Natasha slid her gaze over to Steve. "You're going to show us off, huh?"

"It'll be monkey suits and dresses," Steve said, his smile a little tight. "But it's for the greater good or so I'm told. How's Tony?"

"Still pretty out of it," Natasha said. "But he'll recover. Has the news about Hammer gotten out yet?"

"Nothing online," Steve said. "He did just get out of jail a few months back, so I think people expect him to be less reliable than normal. Fury said that SHIELD would release the body after...some kind of internal processing."

"I know you don't agree with what I did back there," Natasha said. "But we will find these people without Hammer's help. We'll stop them."

"Stop or kill?" Steve asked, sharply. Natasha didn't look away.

"Whatever is necessary," she said. "They can take down _Iron Man_ , Steve. We can't screw around with these guys. We have to be willing to do what it takes to stop them from being a threat."

"I don't like it," Steve said.

"I do a lot of things I don't like," Natasha said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Clint shifting as he began to wake up. "You get used to it. I'm going to go check on Clint." Steve waved her away.

"Hey, Tasha," Clint said when she sat down next to him. "When'd you get here?"

"Hours and hours ago," she said. "Tony's awake. Potts is in with him now."

"Ah, and you want to talk about the plan," Clint said. "Do we have an actual plan?"

"I'd like you to keep an eye on him. At least until we find his kidnapper," Natasha said. Clint straightened up.

"Wait, I thought it was Hammer who took Stark?"

"There's a partner out there, name unknown," Natasha said. "It'll be in my official report. But, unofficially..."

"You want me to babysit Stark," Clint said.

"Just for now."

Clint shrugged, in the way that meant he was agreeing to her terms. Natasha relaxed slightly, feeling more easy.

* * *

The rescue team gathered in Tony's bedroom for the general debriefing, Tony propped up majestically in bed. He'd been insufferably pleased with himself ever since he'd been brought back home from the hospital. Rhodey opened a bottle of champagne, handing out a glass to everyone except for Tony, who'd been told alcohol wouldn't mix well with his medication but still insisted on complaining.

Natasha and Steve shared what little they'd learned from Hammer—Steve's friend Wilson had gotten to the computer banks before they'd fried, so he was able to help them out with some more information, though still not enough to track down a name. The meeting itself was casual and devolved into being a celebratory party half-way through.

Natasha did her best to avoid speaking one-on-one with Tony, spending some time talking with Thor about native plants of Asgard. After some more time, she wandered out onto the balcony, studying the New York skyline.

* * *

Natasha turned her head to see Darcy slipping out to join her on the balcony, sliding the door closed behind her.

"Is everything all right?" Darcy asked.

Natasha glanced through the glass walls at the party still swirling inside and...made an impulsive decision. "Would you like to hear a secret?"

Darcy nodded quickly, coming forward to join Natasha.

"I can't hold you to this, but I'd like to request that what I tell you stays between us," Natasha said, leaning forward against the railing. She'd been honest with the girl, almost ruthlessly honest, shared details about her past that should have made Darcy flinch and stop looking at Natasha with fond admiration. She'd been honest enough that she wanted to share this truth, too, even if it would be the piece of information that would finally make that light go out of Darcy's eyes—she'd told Darcy about worse things but they'd all been events from long ago, involving people Darcy had never heard of, and details like that could make a difference.

"I promise," Darcy said, with all the fervency of passionate youth.

"I slept with Tony Stark," Natasha said. She didn't look over at Darcy. "A few months back."

"Oh," Darcy said. "While he was still—oh, my."

"You see," Natasha said. "Not a hero. Not even close."

"But _why_?" Darcy asked, then she interrupted herself. "I mean, I know why. He's...he's Tony Stark; there's a line around the block—around the _city_ —for him. But. I mean. I thought you and his...and Pepper were friends."

"When I told Clint about it, I said that it happened because we were drunk," Natasha said. "But we weren't. Not enough to count. We both knew what we were doing. We just wanted it too much to stop."

"Wow," Darcy said. She still sounded shocked.

"Best not to get too attached to any of us, kid," Natasha said, as gently as she could. "Sure, when it comes to aliens or planet-wide threats, you can count on us, but when it comes to any of the rest of it... we're as screwed up as anyone else. Probably more. Even our Captain isn't quite as shiny as the pin-up posters make him look." She pushed back from the railing. "I should get back—"

Darcy grabbed her wrist.

Reflexively, Natasha started to twist out of the grip and then she stopped herself, looking at Darcy, and she said, sharply, "Don't do that. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"You'd never hurt me," Darcy said, wide-eyed and certain.

"You can't know that," Natasha said.

"I do," Darcy said. "You would never hurt me. You just wouldn't." She let go of Natasha's wrist, looking up at her with those trusting eyes. "Okay, I was surprised you slept with him but you're my _friend_. And that means I'm there for you all the time, even when you're being a dumbass."

"A dumbass, huh?" Natasha said, and she let herself smile.

"A super dumbass," Darcy said. "But still my friend."

"Thank you," Natasha said.

"But the next time I'm dating someone, you don't get an introduction," Darcy said, with a teasing smile. "Boyfriend-stealer."

Natasha laughed, startled. "I didn't—I didn't _steal_ him. I borrowed him. For one night."

"Not sure being a boyfriend-borrower is really all that much better," Darcy said. "So, spill—how _is_ Tony Stark in bed?"

All mouth, always kissing or talking or scraping his goatee across her skin. Questions; he'd asked so many questions. She'd never slept with anyone who'd asked her so many times if she liked what he was doing. He had mechanic's hands, rough and with flecks of grease hiding under his fingernails. When he'd been inside her body, he'd touched her face, stared at her like she was a puzzle he was trying to figure out.

"Good," Natasha said. "He's very good."

"Do you think you'll sleep with him again?"

"I don't know," Natasha said, turning her head slightly. She couldn't see Tony from here—he was still tucked away in his bedroom—but she could see Potts, slim and graceful as she chatted with Tony's driver Happy. "Not if he and Ms. Potts get back together."

She wouldn't do that to Potts again. Not after she'd seen the price Potts had paid for it this time.

Natasha had tried shutting off the part of her that wanted him. It hadn't worked. What she had left, then, was this: she cared about Tony and perhaps, given time and exposure, it would fade. Perhaps it wouldn't.

Leaving wasn't the answer; there was so much more here than Tony and her feelings for him. Here, she had friends, not just co-workers. She had purpose.

For the first time since she was a little girl, she had a home.

She could be content with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Enyo is a war goddess of Greece, who reportedly delights in bloodshed and the destruction of towns and who accompanies Ares—commonly said to be her father, in other accounts her brother—in battle.


End file.
